


The Book of Andy Brooks

by malarak



Series: Spelled [3]
Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: M/M, Magic, Sleepy Hollow AU, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-01-24 21:19:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 32,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1617437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malarak/pseuds/malarak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichabod Crane presides over a San Francisco antique shop and helps to collect magicked items let loose into the world. He is now assisted by Andy Brooks, who previously helped Ichabod overcome three spells hanging over his life. Jenny Mills is Ichabod's consulting witch. Abbie Mills is a police officer. My Sleepy Hollow AU continues with a visit to purgatory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The magic viagra worked, so the sexy times continue.
> 
> Definitely some violence, blood, and guts.
> 
> My plan remains to post a chapter each Thursday.

Everything was magic.

Everything felt somewhat familiar, but Andy was sure that he had not been here before. He couldn't really see, but he could sense that he was inside a large space. A faint light, like that of an overcast San Francisco dawn, came from two sides, creating rows of shadowy objects that he could not make out in a dance of smoke. He was not moving through the space, just holding still, and dark and light tendrils of smoke and light spun around him. And he could sense that there was someone else in the space with him, someone yet invisible. It was a silent space, and Andy was holding his breath, waiting, but it was not clear for what. He hadn't realized it was cold in the space, but suddenly he began to feel warm all down the front of his body, and the heat grew as the shadows faded and the space grew lighter but no more distinct. And then he awoke.

Ichabod was pressed against him, front to front, and when Andy opened his eyes, Ichabod's blue-green eyes were looking at him, his arms wrapped around him, holding him close. Ichabod smiled warmly at him. "Good morning, Andy."

"Good morning to you, too, Ichabod," Andy answered, his own smile echoing Ichabod's.

Ichabod's hands began to move soothingly across his back, the warmth penetrating the thin layer of his t-shirt. "You were so still and cold. I decided you needed warming up."

"I like your thinking," chuckled Andy. He could feel not only Ichabod's hands but also his hard cock grinding gently but firmly against his own. He was sure he was crushing Ichabod's right arm, and he wanted more friction, so he pulled Ichabod onto him as he turned fully on his back. Ichabod allowed his whole weight to press into Andy, and Andy couldn't help but moan.

"I love the sounds you make," said Ichabod, "but I need to kiss you." He leaned down and pressed his lips against Andy's and then tilted his head so that he could come closer, opening his lips into a deep open-mouthed kiss. Each press of lips was accompanied by a press of hips. Andy arched his hips to increase the pressure and began to thrust up against Ichabod.

Ichabod's tongue tangled with his own, touching and teasing, much like their hands against each other's skin, in each other's hair.

In spite of already being fully pressed down by Ichabod's weight, Andy felt as if the pressure against his whole groin, but especially his cock, was becoming stronger and more intense. He could feel the rigidity of Ichabod's erection at an angle to his own, a ridge of heat working at the receptive spot below the head.

"Oh god," gasped Ichabod when he pulled off to grab a breath. "I am so close."

"Don't stop," moaned Andy.

"Don't you want to take off your boxers?" asked Ichabod.

"So we have to do more laundry," groaned Andy, feeling his orgasm begin to swell. "Don't you dare stop."

Ichabod duly returned to kissing Andy and grinding down, their hard lengths colliding behind the two layers of smooth cotton. Andy was so close and he pressed his heels into the mattress to allow him to lift his hips up against Ichabod's in thrust after thrust.

Andy came with a muffled shout, Ichabod's lips still firmly on his. He could feel his cock continue to spasm and a wet warmth soaked his boxers. Ichabod lifted his face off of his and moaned, and Andy could feel his cock jerk and the hot wetness at his groin spread.

Ichabod's head fell onto Andy's shoulder, and Andy lifted his arm to cradle Ichabod's head as he nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

They slipped into a drowsy languor.

.....

Ichabod was still sleeping when Andy awoke. He slipped quietly out from Ichabod's bed, grimacing at the moist and clammy condition of his boxers but relieved that the material had not dried stuck to his skin. He put off the thought of a shower, not wanting to wake Ichabod, pulling on his t-shirt and padding out to the living room.

He stood by one of the windows overlooking the street and watched the morning activity. Shops were getting ready to open, and there was a flow of pedestrians heading down to Columbus Avenue for their morning coffee on this summer holiday.

It had now been over a month since Ichabod had been nearly burned to death in the basement, and the knowledge that Andy's mom was actually a woman from Ichabod's past, Katrina Moloch, out for some twisted revenge, still sat uncomfortably in his gut in spite of the fact that Ichabod forgave him and loved him. Actually, Ichabod said there was nothing to forgive, but Andy couldn't shake the feeling of guilt, justified or not. Somehow, his mom, Katrina, had set all of this in motion years before, using Andy as the catalyst. Ichabod had explained how he had failed Katrina, failed to get her the emerald necklace that stored memories that would give her father a measure of peace before he died. But Ichabod had failed Katrina, and the result was a curse on Ichabod that Ichabod would never find love, a curse that Andy had somehow broken.

And the words in his mother's voice that came out of Andy's shadow, that Andy was made for Ichabod, what did that mean? Andy told Ichabod that no matter how he was molded and manipulated, his feelings for Ichabod were real; but over the short time they had been together, Andy wondered if anything about himself was real or if he was in fact feeling exactly as Katrina had planned he would. Madness lay in this train of thought, he was sure.

It only seemed to get worse the longer he spent with Ichabod. They had spent nearly all of their time together these last few weeks, probably afraid of being separated again. When Andy would look at Ichabod's face, he would think how much he loved those blue-green eyes, the high forehead, the full lips, the softness of his mustache and beard; and then he wondered how Ichabod could love someone whose whole existence might be predicated on bringing about his pain and suffering.

When they made love, Andy would lose himself in the feel of Ichabod on his body. Ichabod was very tactile, and his hands and lips would stroke and kiss and press until Andy could think of nothing but Ichabod. Ichabod seemed to love to have Andy stretched out on the bed while Ichabod took him in his mouth, his hands stroking up and down his sides and along his thighs while his lips and tongue made love to his cock. Andy would be aching to thrust into Ichabod's soft mouth, but his hands would keep Andy pressed against his bed, allowing Andy no control over how fast or slowly Ichabod brought Andy to orgasm.

And as much as Andy loved Ichabod's mouth on his cock, what his body ached for the most was Ichabod's cock inside of him, thrusting into him, filling him and sending sparks of pleasure up his spine. It was as if he couldn't get enough of Ichabod, as if he wished Ichabod could completely invade his being, and when Andy would come with Ichabod fucking into him, for a moment, he could believe that the flash of white ecstasy that engulfed him was the feeling of Ichabod and him merging into one.

However, they couldn't make love 24 hours a day, although they had done their best these last weeks. And Andy found himself back to wondering and doubting and fearing in quiet moments when Ichabod was not talking to him or holding him, pulling him back into the reality of them, leaving him to wander into the intangible thicket of questions of who he was and what he was.

Andy started when he felt a brush of lips at the nape of his neck, and then arms wrapped around him, surrounding him in solidity and warmth.

"I hate waking up and not finding you next to me," mumbled Ichabod, still brushing his lips against Andy's neck.

Andy shivered in pleasure. "I just had to get up and stretch. I would have come back to bed in a few minutes."

Ichabod just held him then, allowing Andy to rest his head back against his shoulder.

"I don't know about you," Ichabod said, "but I need to get these boxers off of me, not to mention a good shower before we all head over to the Irving and Irving Fourth of July party."

Andy nodded.

"I love you, Andy."

"I love you, too, Ichabod." Andy tried hard not to think about why they felt they needed to say this to each other so often, but he failed.

.....

It was a typical July day in San Francisco. The skies were fogged with grey, but occasional glimpses of blue gave hope that the fog would clear by mid-afternoon and stay off the coast for the fireworks. Andy could count the number of times he had actually seen the fireworks in San Francisco on one hand. Mostly, he remembered looking up into the sky to see the fog backlit by bursts of pink or gold as condensation dripped down his face underneath his sweatshirt hood.

Ichabod and Andy rendezvoused with Jenny and Abbie at the corner of Columbus and Union for the walk up to the Irvings. Both of them couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the presence of Luke Morales, a fellow officer of Abbie's on the SFPD, clearly Abbie's plus one for the party.

Greetings and hugs were shared all around, and then Ichabod joined Abbie and Luke for the walk up Union Street with Andy trailing behind with Jenny.

"So when did this happen?" Andy asked, pointing at the new couple.

"Apparently, it's been over a month. You two were sufficient distraction that I didn't notice until about two weeks ago."

Andy watched bemusedly as Ichabod clearly grilled his two long-standing acquaintances about their change in status.

"Abbie's a bit high maintenance," commented Jenny, "but, then again, so is Luke. It's already been a month, so we'll see."

Andy refrained from any further comment about her sister. He also wondered about how Jenny felt being the only one going stag. Ichabod had told him that witches did not typically form long-term relationships, so the fact that Jenny was going solo was not surprising.

The conversation shifted away from the novelty of Abbie and Luke to the party. Every year, the Irvings held a company party on the Fourth of July on the rooftop of their building on the corner of Hyde and Greenwich. The rooftop provided a panoramic view of the Golden Gate Bridge and the Marin Headlands beyond. It was also a prime spot for viewing the fireworks, fog permitting, without the hassle of parking down at Chrissy Field, although it was no piece of cake to park near their building either, which is why they were walking the mile up from North Beach. Over 100 people attended each year, and Andy had been several times during his five years with the firm. The Irvings had been kind enough to invite him even though he had left the company and were quite pleased when he told them he was bringing Ichabod as his plus one.

The fivesome reached the intersection of Union and Hyde and turned right to follow the cable car tracks the remaining two blocks. Their conversation was accompanied by the rumble of the cable line running underground, and shortly before they reached the Irving's building, a cable car went clanging by in typically picturesque postcard fashion with tourists hanging off the sides, huddling in their down jackets and shorts.

They arrived at the ten-story white stucco tower, one of the many San Francisco buildings erected in the decade after the 1906 earthquake. The brick entryway was ornamented with floral plasterwork, and Andy couldn't help but look up at the bay windows that rose up the two street sides of the building. The Law Firm of Irving and Irving occupied two of the building's floors and had a staff of approximately 60 people, including the partners. One of the office staff was stationed by the building elevators to check guests in.

They exited the elevator on the tenth floor and followed the red-carpeted hallway along to the flight of stairs leading up to the roof. From the relative dimness of the narrow stairway, they emerged into the bright but still grey afternoon and a good crowd of people eating, drinking, conversing, and laughing.

Within a few steps of the stairway exit, Frank and Cynthia Irving, the founders of the law firm and still practicing even though they were now in their 80s, came forward to greet them.

The Irvings were a very attractive African-American couple, Frank trim and dapper in grey flannels, a white button-down, and a red cardigan, and Cynthia elegant in a chambray shirt-waist with a matching cardigan and a chunky gold necklace. The law firm was established in the late 50s and played its own role in the struggle for civil rights even though San Francisco was a far cry from the South, and the firm maintained its focus on social justice issues to the present day.

The Irvings each shook hands with Abbie and Jenny, and it was clear that their paths had crossed multiple times. The African American community in San Francisco was not that large. Abbie introduced Luke, who looked a bit uncomfortable in his new role but tried to hide it under an overzealous friendliness.

"Andy," said Cynthia warmly as she hugged him, "it's so good to see you. I trust you are doing well in your new position."

"I'm doing very well," replied Andy. He shook Frank's hand and turned to introduce Ichabod. "This is my, um, boyfriend, Ichabod Crane." They had not discussed what term to use for each other, and Andy realized this was the first time he needed to have it at hand.

"Ichabod," greeted Cynthia, holding firmly on to Ichabod's hands. "We don't know each other, but both Frank and I certainly know of you through your mother, Adrienne."

"Really?" asked Ichabod in surprise. "Were you close to my parents?"

"Actually," responded Cynthia, "we didn't know your father very well, just in a professional capacity. But we knew your mother quite well. She was one of our daughter's godmothers. And, in fact, here's our daughter, Macey."

Macey Irving was a trim older woman, in her late 50s by Andy's calculation, but as stylish as her mother in a sapphire blue blouse and white slacks.

"Macey," said Cynthia, "this is Ichabod Crane and his partner, Andy Brooks. Ichabod is Adrienne Crane's son."

"Of course," said Macey extending her hand to shake Ichabod's. Andy couldn't help but notice the beautiful worked silver bracelet studded with colored stones. Both Irving women had incredible taste. "I have very fond memories of your mother. It was terrible to lose her so soon."

Andy knew Macey was referring to the fire where Adrienne Crane had died. Macey turned her attention to him next. "And of course I know about you from my parents. I trust you are enjoying working for Ichabod."

"Very much so," said Andy.

A waiter walked by with glasses of champagne, and Macey helped everyone to a glass. "Note the charm on the stem," she pointed out. "That way you can keep track of your glass throughout the party. It's also a souvenir to take home."

Andy lifted the charm. His was a blue Statue of Liberty, and the Irving and Irving logo was impressed on the reverse. He looked over and saw that Ichabod had a green George Washington.

Introductions done, Ichabod and Andy moved through the crowd to get something to eat and admire what they could see of the view.

The afternoon passed pleasantly. Andy introduced Ichabod to several of his former co-workers, unable to avoid feeling a bit pleased at having this handsome man at his side. Andy was amazed at how quickly Ichabod remembered people's names, greeting them by name when they ran into the same people later in the afternoon. Andy was horrible with names, and it often took an embarrassing social introduction to cement a name in his brain. He'd have to ask Ichabod how he did it. Abbie and Luke eased in and out, clearly quite happy with spending most of the afternoon with just each other. Jenny was often seen in the company of Macey Irving talking animatedly.

As Andy and undoubtedly many others hoped, the fog cleared and stayed off shore as the night settled in. It was still a little while before the fireworks, and Andy and Ichabod had settled on a bench in one corner of the roof.

"So, any spelled objects?" asked Andy, taking another sip of champagne. Ichabod had switched to white wine.

"Far too many," remarked Ichabod.

Andy looked at him in surprise. "Too many? What does that mean?"

"There are quite a few witches at this party, and there are numerous spelled objects on their persons. I can feel them everywhere, so I've basically been ignoring all of them."

Andy had forgotten that Irving and Irving was also a firm serving the needs of the local witch community.

"Have I told you how much I love you?" Ichabod asked, leaning in close to give Andy a kiss on the cheek.

"Never enough," responded Andy, turning the peck into a full kiss. He did feel a bit self-conscious at kissing Ichabod in public, so one good kiss was all he allowed. "I'm going to find the bathroom. Can you get me a refill?"

Ichabod nodded and Andy went inside to take care of the call of nature.

When Andy returned to the roof, there was a buzz of anticipation in the air, and soon enough, the first of the fireworks began. He noted that Luke and Abbie had ended up nearby.

"My champagne?" asked Andy.

Ichabod looked around the immediate area with a distressed look. "Damn. I had to put your glass down for some reason, and I forgot to pick it back up. I know I left it here on this table, but I don't see it anywhere."

Andy shrugged and reached for Ichabod's glass of wine, and Ichabod was perfectly happy to share. Ichabod draped a warm and comfortable arm around Andy, and together they sipped white wine and watched the fireworks. Bursts of light were interspersed with fountains of sparks, smiley faces, ringed planets, and even constellations. The pace of the fireworks increased, and the display ended with a two-minute barrage that fully lit up the sky. When the last spark faded from the sky, long after the thunder of the fireworks had ended, the crowd on the roof let out a cheer.

Andy was taking a final sip of Ichabod's wine when he heard a cry of distress behind him. Ichabod had clearly heard the same sound and turned. Suddenly, the roof lights were turned back on, having been turned off for the fireworks. A young woman was lying on the ground not five feet away. Kneeling beside her was another young woman who was frantically shaking her collapsed companion and making sounds of distress.

Ichabod already had his cell phone out and was calling 911. He joined the woman kneeling on the roof and asked her, "What happened?"

"I don't know," said the woman hysterically. "We were just watching the fireworks and then she collapsed into me. Is she okay?"

Ichabod relayed this information to the dispatcher and then hung up. By this point, Abbie and Luke had taken charge, Abbie taking the woman's pulse and Luke keeping the guests back.

The EMTs arrived before long and ended up carrying the collapsed woman away on a stretcher. Cynthia and Frank Irving were comforting the woman's friend, and there was a rise in volume as news of the situation spread through the group.

Jenny had joined the four of them in one corner of the roof.

Quietly, so as not to be overheard, Abbie told the group, "She's dead. There was no pulse. There was a blueness to her lips. I'm guessing that it was poison."

Ichabod did not look surprised. He held up a champagne glass, using a napkin. "This had rolled under the bench by her hand. It's definitely spelled."

Jenny took hold of the glass, taking care to use the napkin and allowing only the slightest contact between her skin and the glass, and confirmed that the trigger and focus was the liquid in the glass.

"We can test the residue in the glass," said Abbie, and Jenny passed her the glass.

Andy had noted that the glass was a different shape than the one he had been holding most of the night. It was more of a gradually flared shape whereas the one he had held was tuliped, wider towards the middle and narrowing again at the lip. However, it must have been one from the party since a charm dangled from the stem.

Andy blinked and looked again. It couldn't be. Yet, it was. Dangling from the stem of the unfamiliar glass was a blue Statue of Liberty.


	2. Chapter 2

The cavernous room and its contents were now more distinct, and Andy thought that the things he saw should inspire horror and fear, but strangely enough, they instilled in him the opposite, a sense of familiarity and comfort. He felt as if someone he knew well was walking along at his side, just out of sight in the shadows beyond. He made his way down a long walkway, arches soaring into the darkness above him, and as if this were a theater and there was a follow spot, inanimate figures to each side of him were illuminated one after another. The one to his right was of a young man, his nearly naked body straining against ropes that tied him to a stake. From the expression on his face and the tension of his muscles, one would have guessed that he was in the throes of orgasm, but then one saw that his body was pierced with arrows, blood dripping from each wound, splashes of red on his bound feet and arrows scattered on the ground.

This one was succeeded by an even more gruesome sight, a young woman holding aloft a silver platter on which was a severed head. The eyes in the head stared at Andy, and they were not the eyes of the dead but eyes that suggested deep knowledge. Wild dark hair surrounded the head and cascaded off the edges of the platter. The young girl held a sword in her other hand, its blade darkened along its edge. One might have expected the girl to wear the garb of a warrior princess, but instead she was dressed in the suggestion of layer upon layer of transparent fabric ornamented with an edging of gold.

Next was a monk, dressed in a simple brown robe tied with a frayed rope. He held a blue bird on his extended finger, and it looked as if he were conversing with it. He had a face of joy, a smile giving his features radiance beneath his tonsured head. Behind him was a wall of stones, rising to waist height.

Then all was brightness and light. A young woman, radiant in a white and pale blue hooded robe, stood above Andy, her arms outstretched. Her face expressed love and acceptance, and she leaned forward slightly as if to take the viewer into her embrace. Beneath her pale and unblemished feet was the earth, adorned in a similar white and blue.

Somehow Andy knew that he had arrived at the last figure and that the end of the walkway was near. The scene before him was illuminated but darkly so, as if he were looking through a layer of black gauze. Again there was a near naked man, a body twisted awkwardly, suspended as it was from the body's hands and feet, through which it was clear the body had been impaled into the "t" of wood behind it. The body appeared to be lifeless, the head tilted forward, hair hanging limp and hiding the features, a circlet of spiked branches forced onto his head. Next to the hanging body was a soldier, dressed in red and gold with curved plates of brass protecting his forearms and shins. He stood holding a spear in both hands, the butt of the spear resting on the ground, and the eye moved from the tip of the spear to the gaping wound in the hanging body's abdomen. Blood flowed from the wound, but the light also reflected off the wound, as if there were diamonds mixed in with the blood.

Andy found himself moving forward to look under the curtain of hair to see the face of the suspended figure. He trembled. His eyes adapted to the darkness surrounding the downcast face, and Andy let out a gasp when he was not greeted with a blank stare of death but with eyes that appeared to be gleaming in triumph. He stumbled backwards. The earlier feeling of warmth and comfort had fled for a moment, but they returned. He moved forward.

Shadows shifted around him, and then a shape coalesced out of the darkness before him. He had reached the end of the walkway, and rising high above him in a semi-circle were soaring lancets of color. The shape before him rose, as if standing up from a chair, and the shape became a figure, a halo of red hair, broad shoulders tapering to a slender waist and then flaring out again, two arms held slightly bent to each side.

"Hello, Andy," the voice, familiar and warm and sounding of home and safety and comfort, said. Now she was fully visible, her pale flawless skin gleaming, her green eyes bright yet tired, her face surrounded by the corona of fiery red hair. It was Katrina Moloch, from Ichabod's past. It was his grandmother. It was his mother.

.....

Andy had dreamt of that darkened space for many nights, and little by little, the details of the figures had grown clearer and more vivid. But this was the first time he had reached the end of the walkway and seen the figure that he had sensed was there. He held himself still in the bed, his arms crossed over his chest, willing his heart to stop pounding and return to normal. He stared at the off-white ceiling of Ichabod's bedroom, looking for patterns in the hairline cracks that ran like streams across the surface of a map.

He didn't know what these dreams meant, but they were becoming stronger. And now she had spoken to him, and Andy was beginning to wonder if this was more than a dream. He was reticent to tell Ichabod about the dreams. After all, Katrina Moloch was a painful part of Ichabod's past and a nearly deadly part of their present. Andy still paused each time his fingertip traced the raised scar on Ichabod's back where Katrina's spell had almost succeeded in burning the life out of Ichabod.

While having no visible scars, Andy also wondered what it meant that he had taken the spelled brass and wooden object into himself. Did the atoms of that object just disappear, or were they now inextricably linked to Andy's being and, perhaps most relevant, to Andy's mind.

In spite of his worries, Andy's mind began to clear. It was almost a week since the Fourth of July party, and there were some answers now, although these seemed to engender more questions.

It had been a very long night. Abbie and Luke had taken charge of the scene, and just in case it turned into a more general case of murder (and not a witch-related one), they had held the guests in order to get their names, contact information, and their connection to Irving and Irving. Those who were in the general vicinity of the victim were held even longer, including Andy and Ichabod.

The champagne glass had gone in for testing, and the champagne in the glass was just that, champagne. There were no fingerprints on the glass other than those of the victim.

The victim turned out to be a colleague from the Public Defender's office, as was her friend. Questioning of associates and friends turned up no clear motivation for anyone wanting her dead.

However, the wine charm was definitely Andy's. The Irvings confirmed that they had ordered a set of 120 charms, twelve different designs in ten different colors. Andy had the only blue Statue of Liberty on that roof.

A search did find a champagne glass with a green Statue of Liberty charm and the victim's fingerprints all over the glass. It became pretty clear that the victim could have assumed the glass with the blue charm was hers given the low light and the explosions of color during the fireworks.

And last, the spelled glass was different from those used by the caterers the Irvings had hired. They had brought 12 dozen champagne glasses in a tulip shape. The spelled glass was flared in shape and not one of theirs.

The most peculiar piece of information was the autopsy result. The victim had died of asphyxiation, not poisoning. What wasn't clear was how she had suffocated. There was nothing found in her airway, and there was no sign that there was any inflammation of the tissues of her airway such as might be found in someone who had died of anaphylactic shock.

The wine glass was now safely stored in the basement of Crane's Antiques, Curiosities, and Revelations and an entry made in the spelled object inventory.

.....

Ichabod awoke in an amorous mood, a mood that Andy was pleased to discover seemed to strike Ichabod whenever he awoke to find Andy in his bed. Not long after breaking all three of the spells on Ichabod, they had both gotten tested, and with negative results, waking up together meant that Ichabod could move quite quickly to loosening Andy up with his tongue and fingers before filling him with his hardness and then his cum. Post-coitally, Andy loved to lay back and let Ichabod return to kissing and working over his hole with his tongue, tingling both from the sensation and the thought that Ichabod's lips were where his cock had been just a minute before. It was amazing to Andy that Ichabod always seemed so hot for him and ready to pin him down on the mattress or against a door frame or on a convenient flat surface. Andy enjoyed the other forms sex with another man could take, but he couldn't deny that the sensation he wanted most was to have Ichabod inside of him, jets of stars flashing behind his eyes with each agonizingly pleasurable thrust of Ichabod's hips.

Both of them lay back, sweaty and sated. Andy held his hands behind his head, allowing the gentle currents of air from the ventilation system cool and dry him. Ichabod lay to his side, a lazy finger tracing shapes between Andy's pectorals and across his stomach.

"You're sure you want to do this today?" asked Ichabod. "It's uncharacteristically nice out."

Andy nodded. They had first talked about Andy moving in, then progressed to the logistics of the moving of Andy's belongings and the disposal of the vast majority of Andy's furniture (most of it very disposable items from places like Ikea and Target). And now, with Andy essentially having already moved in, they needed to head back to Andy's apartment to give it a final cleaning before turning the keys over to his landlord with the hope of recapturing most of his cleaning deposit.

"Then let's get to it," said Ichabod.

The cleaning supplies were already at Andy's apartment, so they had decided that they would take the BART train across town to avoid the frustration and waste of time that finding a parking space near Andy's place usually entailed. Once showered and dressed, they had strolled down Columbus, turning south at the Transamerica Pyramid to walk the few blocks to the Montgomery Street BART Station. Three stations later found them emerging street level in the Mission District, still the center of Latino life in the city but now also the center of life for young tech workers and filled with bars, restaurants, and quirky boutiques. They stopped for coffee and a Mexican pastry at the bakery by the station and picked up a few extra custard filled pastries to give them energy when the cleaning wore them out.

To Andy's surprise, cleaning progressed steadily. Most of the discoloration to the walls and baseboards were actual scuffs and nicks, something that cleaning would not solve. The vacuum took care of the long-neglected dust on the window sills and the hardwood floors. Scouring the sinks and toilet with cleanser was actually the most rewarding, leaving the most noticeable change in cleanliness in the studio apartment.

They were done by early-evening. They dropped off the vacuum cleaner and unused cleaning supplies at the door of a downstairs neighbor, to whom Andy was bequeathing them (Ichabod had his own vacuum, not to mention a cleaning service twice a month), threw away the damp rags, and left with just a red bucket that Andy had only just bought and was not quite ready to part with.

They stopped for a well-earned burrito and Dos Equis on the way back to the BART station, and Andy couldn't help but smile at Ichabod in between bites. This made the moving in official and, knock on wood, permanent.

The 16th Street Station was relatively quiet when they got there a little after eight. There were still stragglers returning home from work coming up from the platform, but there was essentially no one heading down from the street to catch a train. The Mission might be the hip neighborhood of the moment, but San Francisco was still a pretty early-to-bed town overall.

Andy and Ichabod got on the down escalator, and Ichabod turned to look up at Andy and hold his hand. It was a pretty sappy moment overall, but Andy couldn't help but smile down at his sentimental boyfriend. Or whatever they decided to call each other. They still had not yet had that conversation.

Andy noticed that Ichabod's expression suddenly changed from sappy happiness to surprise. Before he knew what was happening, Ichabod had grabbed and pushed him to the left. There was a loud clatter of metal on metal. Ichabod let out a cry as something struck him across the back, and when Andy looked over Ichabod's shoulder, he saw a bicycle hurtling down the remaining steps of the escalator and crash onto the granite floor below.

They reached the end of the escalator, and Andy anxiously turned Ichabod around. There were tears to the back of his jacket, and when Andy lifted the layers of fabric away, he found bleeding gashes across Ichabod's back.


	3. Chapter 3

Ichabod was shirtless and seated on a granite bench just outside the ticket gates while an EMT treated the wounds on his back. Andy sat at his side, one hand resting on Ichabod's thigh.

Once Andy was able to get beyond his focus on the cuts to Ichabod's back, he realized that the bicycle had done more damage than he first thought. While the bicycle had looked isolated at the foot of the escalator, it had, in fact, struck an elderly woman standing nearby, and it looked like she was being stabilized with what appeared to be a broken hip. The now mangled bicycle lay a few feet away, the front tire bent and broken spokes poking outwards.

"That's exactly why there are no bicycles allowed on the escalators," decried a heavily bearded and portly BART employee who was standing to the side to keep people away from the EMTs. "They're supposed to take the stairs. The stairs are wider. I've seen people drop their bicycles before, and at least on the stairs there's more room to get out of the way."

A police officer, not Abbie or Luke, was asking the employee about what he had seen.

"I only saw the kid out of the corner of my eye up there," the employee continued. "I was helping someone with a demagnetized ticket, and I was going to tell him to take the stairs with the bike. Next thing I know, the bike is coming down, and he's gone."

"So describe the kid," asked the officer.

"He was a bit far away. Skinny black kid, wearing a grey hoodie. Jeans. Black high tops. Think it was a boy, but I didn't get a good look."

"Done," said the EMT, smoothing down a final piece of tape over the gauze now striping Ichabod's back. "Don't shower for a couple of days. Have your friend change the dressing in about 12 hours. It's going to feel pretty uncomfortable while it's healing, but the scrapes aren't very deep, so you shouldn't be uncomfortable for too long."

Andy fully intended to get Jenny to tend to Ichabod's back to move the healing process along faster. Ichabod put back on his shirts and jacket, ventilated though they were, and shortly thereafter, they were on a BART train heading back downtown. Ichabod sat sideways on a bench seat to avoid any pressure on his back. Andy had them go an additional stop to Embarcadero. There was a hotel at the BART exit, and he got them a cab for the short ride home. Although Ichabod was insisting that the walk would be fine, Andy could tell that Ichabod was still quite shaken up and a bit unsteady.

Back at the apartment, Andy couldn't help but laugh when he put down the red bucket in the entryway. He had kept track of the silly thing the entire time. He made Ichabod a cup of herbal tea, and after Ichabod had finished it, he made sure he was comfortably lying in bed on his stomach before he cleaned himself up for bed.

It was a coincidence, wasn't it? Andy asked himself as he was brushing his teeth. They still weren't sure what actually happened at the Fourth of July party. Bicycles did get away from their riders on BART Station escalators, and it wasn't a surprise that someone who lost control of their bike and worried that they had inadvertently hurt someone would flee the scene. The bike had been pretty much a heavily abused city bike, heavy duty and scratched and dented.

Lost in these thoughts, Andy fell asleep, but behind them all, he said a prayer of thanks that Ichabod was not more seriously hurt.

.....

The entire interior was aglow, unlike before when most things were cast in shadow. Delicately fluted pillars rose on both sides of the church, and it was clearly a church, to meet in pointed arches. Against the side walls were small openwork structures composed of more gothic arches and tracery, inside each of which was an inanimate tableau. In the one nearest him, a young woman was using a filmy piece of cloth to wipe the brow of a recumbent figure that could only be Jesus. Veronica of the veil came to Andy. It was like looking through the windows of a church into a scene within. There were others further down this wall and against the wall on the opposite side, pews against the walls in between.

It all felt familiar to Andy. He had been here before. And yet, it was not quite what he expected. In the center of the church, he expected pews divided by a wide central aisle. Instead, there were no pews at all, just a parade of colored plaster statues down the center towards the front of the church. He had seen these statues before. With a jolt of recollection, he knew that he was looking at St. Sebastian pierced by arrows. Salome held aloft the head of John the Baptist on a platter. St. Francis spoke to his birds, and the Virgin Mary welcomed all. The centurion who had pierced Jesus' side was looking up at the crucified figure.

Why would he be dreaming of this place? He had been here before, but it had little meaning to him in spite of the fact that Biblical stories came to mind when he looked at the statues around him. And then he saw her, standing at the front of the church before the altar, her back to him. Her red hair seemed to pulse in its vividness, flickering candlelight glinting on the lustrous surface. She wore a deep burgundy dress, something that drank in the light and absorbed it like velvet, cinched in tight at the waist and flaring in a full skirt to the floor. Her hands were clasped invisibly in front of her, and it looked like she was lost in prayer.

Then she turned, and her eyes linked with Andy's. He had to look away, and he noticed that he was wearing the t-shirt and boxers he wore to sleep. His feet were bare, and he became conscious of the threadbare carpet.

"Hello Andy," she said. Andy looked back up. The photo he had seen of her did not convey the flashing of her green eyes, the brilliant redness of her full lips, the flush on her pale cheeks.

"Katrina," Andy replied.

"Is that the warmest greeting you can muster for your beautiful loving mother?"

Andy couldn't deny that she was beautiful, mesmerizing, but in spite of the familiarity of the voice, she was not his mother.

"Why am I dreaming of you?" Andy asked. "I never knew you. Not like this."

Katrina gave a harsh laugh. "You aren't dreaming, Andy. Not exactly."

Andy realized he was worried that this wasn't a dream, and Katrina's words made him shiver. He was hardly dressed, but he wasn't cold. The shivers were due to things he couldn't make himself think through.

Katrina gave a sweep of her skirt and descended the few steps before the altar. Andy followed her with his eyes.

"I am real, Andy," she said. "I am inside of you, a part of you." She shrugged and said, "It's not what I had planned. But I'm still alive, and even if I'm trapped inside of you for now, being alive means there's a hope that I can live outside of you again."

Katrina walked down the central walkway, her long pale fingers topped with emerald green nails brushing along the statues as she passed them. Andy could not look away.

"Nothing to say, Andy?" she laughed. "I could never get you to shut up when you were little. I encouraged that noisy curiosity."

"What do you want?" Andy asked.

"To live, of course," said Katrina, throwing her hands up theatrically as she tilted her head back. She suddenly straightened up, pulling her hands to her sides and looked at Andy seriously. She was only a few feet away now. "She is after you. She knows I am a part of you now, and she knows that if she can kill you, she will kill me."

"Who?" asked Andy confused. "The champagne? The bicycle?"

Katrina turned away abruptly and began to walk back towards the altar. "How she plans to kill you, I don't know. I can't see what she is trying to do. I can only sense her intentions. I knew she was gaining strength, so I hid myself, but now she knows I am here, inside of you."

"Who?" Andy asked again.

"That's not the most important thing right now," exclaimed Katrina with exasperation. "Right now, you need to stay alive because if you die, I die." She turned again to fix him with her stare. "And I do not want to die."

Andy gulped. "How do I not die?"

Katrina looked at him with a doubtful look. "You pay attention. And you use what's available to you."

"What do you mean?"

Katrina turned her head and Andy followed her gaze. At the other side of the church, standing still enough that Andy had thought it was just another statue, was his shadow. It did not pace around like Katrina did, but it was not completely still either. Andy could see its fingers flex, its head turn slightly to the side. It was exactly as Andy remembered it from the basement of the shop, a dreamy vision of Andy, solid yet blurred in its details. Andy noticed that it was not dressed in his sleeping clothes but rather the shirt and pants he had had on the last time he had seen it.

"What's it doing here?" asked Andy.

"The same thing I am," said Katrina. "Waiting."

The shadow turned its head and its vague eyes pointed at Andy.

"You brought both of us into yourself. I used to be able to control your shadow, but in here, I have no powers. Your shadow occasionally moves around the church, but most of the time it just stands in stillness. Waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

"For you to tell it what to do," said Katrina simply.

Andy looked at her incredulously. Katrina rolled her eyes.

"You have controlled it before. Hasn't it occurred to you that you control it now? I may have created it within you, but now it is yours. Use it to help protect yourself."

"But how?"

"How did you do it before?"

Andy thought. He remembered how he had focused on the shadow, how it was like merging his mind into a second body and telling that body to move. There had been so little control, nothing like moving his own limbs. But he had controlled it, moved it, awkwardly, but enough that Ichabod had not died and neither had he.

"Do it now," Katrina said.

Andy closed his eyes, and he was surprised at how naturally connecting with the shadow was. He could feel it in his mind, a sluggish presence, not easily moved, but open to simple direction. He told it to come to him.

When he opened his eyes, the shadow had already made its way halfway towards him. Andy almost laughed at the sight because now the shadow was wearing a simulacrum of his t-shirt and boxers.

Katrina suddenly looked anxious.

"What?" Andy asked, looking around the building nervously.

"You will awaken soon," she said. "You need to be able to use the shadow in the real world, not just in here."

"What do I do?" Andy asked.

"Do the same thing, only open your mind not to this church but to the place where your physical body is. Think of that place and have the shadow go there."

Andy felt a slight tug on his consciousness and the lights in the church flickered. Katrina gave him a quick nod of the head. Andy closed his eyes again. He felt himself a part of the shadow and then, rather than compelling it just to move, he envisioned Ichabod's bedroom. He forced himself to pull out details of the space, the neutral walls, the paned windows, the pattern of cracks on the ceiling, the feel of Ichabod's sheets beneath his fingers, the feel of Ichabod's weight comfortingly next to him on the bed. He built up the image of Ichabod's bedroom all around him and he moved the shadow into that space.

And in that instant, there was a scream that ripped away the church, the statues, Katrina, and all thought.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now you know Katrina is still around. We leave her for now for some sorely needed practice on Andy's part and some sexy times.

The scream echoed in Andy's head as he came to full wakefulness. The first thing he saw was Ichabod, scrunched on his side, staring at him with alarm, mouth agape.

"What in God's name..." Ichabod was muttering, and Andy could see that his breathing was shallow and rapid.

Andy allowed his eyes to look sideways while keeping his face turned completely towards Ichabod. His shadow was standing at the foot of the bed, still dressed in an approximation of Andy's sleeping clothes.

"I think I can explain," Andy stuttered, trying to sound calm and reassuring. This time, he turned his head fully to take in the still figure standing by. He turned back to Ichabod with a feeble smile. "Not the best way to wake up, I'm guessing."

Ichabod glared at him, and he looked like he was going to throw a pillow at him but aborted the movement when he clearly felt the strain in his back.

Andy closed his eyes and merged with the shadow again, having the shadow move out of the bedroom and into the living room. If he was really going to use the shadow as some form of protection, he would need to learn how to control the shadow more agilely. At this pace, he would be twice dead before he could even get into its head space.

Ichabod had watched the shadow's exit with bated breath, and only when the shadow was gone did he let out a deep exhalation. "My dressings are itching like mad. You can explain while you change them. I'm thinking this will all proceed more smoothly if you don't have to look me in the face."

.....

The dressings had been changed, and Andy had done his best to explain. Ichabod had occasionally twitched during the one-sided conversation, but Andy wasn't sure if that was due to the details of his so-called dreams or the ministrations to the cuts on Ichabod's back. When he was done with both the bandages and the explanation, Ichabod just lay silently on the bed, his head resting on his folded arms, his eyes closed.

Andy took the soiled bandages out to the kitchen garbage can and set the electric kettle going. He startled when he saw his shadow standing by the sofa, but he ignored it and went about his business. While waiting for the water, he called and left a message for Jenny about Ichabod's injuries and asked about poultices to help with the healing.

Andy put tea leaves into the strainer in the pot and poured the just-boiled water over them. He put on the lid and then covered the pot with a cozy while the tea steeped.

He leaned against the kitchen counter while the minutes went by. This was all so new, this being with Ichabod. It was wonderful and intense and filled him with joy in a way that he hadn't ever imagined. But it was also frightening in its delicacy. True enough, he had essentially moved in with Ichabod, a sign that they thought this relationship would last. However, there was so much that they had never said about what had happened in the basement and what had led up to it. And now, before they had even gotten to the point of working out that disaster, Katrina was back in his head and telling him that someone was out to kill him, and he didn't know whether to believe her, given what she had tried to do to Ichabod, and if he did believe her, what to do now. There was no time to think and digest.

As he pulled the strainer out of the tea pot, he realized he wasn't even thinking of Katrina as mom anymore, even though every time she spoke, it was with his mother's voice. But when he thought of her in the church in his mind, it was Katrina, a woman totally unknown to him.

He poured two mugs and added a little sugar and milk to Ichabod's and carried them back into the bedroom.

When he entered, Ichabod was still in the same position, but he opened his eyes at the sound of Andy's return. Seeing the tea, Ichabod shifted and sat up, crouched forward so as not to accidentally lean his back against the headboard. Andy handed him his mug and then sat on the edge of bed.

"Say something," said Andy. "What are you thinking?" He gingerly took a sip of tea.

"I'm sorry," said Ichabod.

Andy turned, confused. "What are you sorry about?"

Ichabod hesitated. "I'm sorry for bringing all of this into your life. If it weren't for me, Katrina would never have used you the way she has, and now she has a permanent home in your mind and is telling you that someone is trying to kill you. This is madness, and I brought it all to your doorstep. And I love you, and I am so, so sorry."

Andy put down his mug on the bedside stand and turned to take Ichabod's face in his hands. He looked into those sea green eyes. "I keep worrying that all I do is bring back to you this terrible part of your life, and you keep apologizing for something you had no control over. I guess we're both scared about what the other person's thinking and feeling. I know I am. But I don't regret that Katrina brought you into my life. Not for a second." Andy leaned forward and kissed him, a relatively chaste kiss with no heat, but a point of contact and connection. When he pulled away, Ichabod was looking at him.

"I'm not sorry about that either," said Ichabod. He leaned forward to press his lips to Andy's again and held them there. It was not just a connection, it was a commitment and a promise. Andy felt himself relax and realized belatedly how tense he had been.

Ichabod let the kiss go, leaned away and took another sip of tea. "I don't know if I trust the Katrina in your head, but there have been two incidents that suggest she may be right about your safety. And the fact that your shadow is in the other room suggests that you should get to work on seeing what it can do to keep you safe."

.....

To say that controlling the shadow was frustrating was an understatement. The only thing Andy could liken it to was the time he was in a disabilities awareness workshop when he was in college, and they had him wear oven mitts and try to pick up plastic shapes and put them through holes of the same shape, something a toddler could do but which was nearly impossible with the oven mitts. At first, Andy felt quite successful. He could enter the mind of the shadow and have it move around. Granted, it never moved very quickly, but it moved into the kitchen, through the doorway into the hall, down to the bathroom, turned around and returned. Anywhere that Andy could envision clearly, even if he couldn't see it at the moment, he could direct the shadow to go.

He found that he did have trouble, however, in avoiding bumping into things. The shadow's shoulder would hit against the door frame as it passed into the hall. When Andy went into the bathroom, he found that the shadow had clearly pulled towels off the rack in turning around in the small space. The shadow also ran into the kitchen table, something which Andy had done numerous times, a solid corner right in the groin. From that, Andy realized the shadow really had no sense of touch or felt pain, something he should have guessed given that it had held a burning piece of wood in its hands.

Getting the shadow to do more than move was where he began to feel like the oven mitt experience. He congratulated himself on working with unbreakable objects after the shadow repeatedly dropped the sofa cushion. Finally, he could get the shadow to pick up the cushion and carry it on a tour around the apartment. Andy marveled that he was able to get the shadow to carry that burning piece of wood previously. From the cushion, Andy worked with something more solid, a book. The book fell so many times and against so many surfaces that Ichabod had finally come to the bedroom door to see what was going on. The shadow had something approximating fingers, but Andy couldn't control them like he could his own. It took forever just to get them to fold around the spine of the book as a group to grasp it and lift it into its arms.

What felt like many hours later, but was actually not much more than one, Andy was exhausted, and as a final exercise, he had the shadow sit down on a chair. The large motor movements were much easier, and Andy slouched on the couch staring at the shadow seated upright.

Ichabod came and sat next to him and allowed Andy to slouch further until he was resting his head in Ichabod's lap.

"Looks like you are making progress," said Ichabod, stroking Andy's hair.

Andy gave a feeble chuckle and just lay there.

"We can definitely have you do this the next time we have to cross the Golden Gate Bridge. We can have it sit in the back and we can use the carpool lane."

At that, Andy had to laugh. "Definitely more convincing than an inflatable doll."

"I'm thinking it's time for you to give me some quality time in a horizontal position."

Andy smiled at the thought. He looked over at the shadow and said, "Stay." Then he stood up and held his hand out to Ichabod to take him back into the bedroom.

.....

Actually, Andy was the only one who ended up somewhat horizontal. He lay on his back, pillows behind his head. Ichabod straddled his waist, and a liberal amount of lube had Andy's cock in the achingly pleasant position of being trapped in between Ichabod's thighs. Ichabod rolled his hips and Andy couldn't help but moan at the feel of the tip of his cock rubbing along the skin behind Ichabod's balls.

Ichabod held himself up by keeping his palms pressed firmly to Andy's chest. With each hitch of his hips, his hands would flex and grab lightly each of Andy's pectorals. The feel of Ichabod rubbing hard against him felt so good that Andy could come any second, so he tried to give focus to the warmth of Ichabod's hands on his chest, over his heart.

Andy really didn't want to come so soon. He looked down at Ichabod's own cock, vividly red and straining, an erotic contrast to the pale taut skin of his stomach and thighs. Andy reached around Ichabod's arms to touch his cock, tracing a finger along its length and fluttering several fingers around the head.

Ichabod grunted and the roll of his hips was heavier and sharper. Andy loved the weight of him, keeping him pressed into the bed, controlling the pace of their lovemaking.

Andy wrapped his hand around Ichabod's length and lightly stroked up and down. Ichabod let out a huff of breath. Andy let go to push his fingers into the tight heat beneath Ichabod, feeling his own cock at the back of his hand, his fingers pressing into the firmness behind Ichabod's balls, coating his hand in lube.

He pulled his hand back out and wrapped it back around Ichabod's cock, firmly and slickly now. He stroked upwards, rotating his palm so that the flat rubbed across the head and the sensitive spot just below the slit. Ichabod shuddered, and the firm rhythm against Andy's cock faltered. Andy stroked downwards, rotating his hand again, rubbing across the head and the shaft down to the base. He allowed two fingers to reach below to stroke gently against each of his balls for a second before once again stroking and rotating upwards.

"Oh gods," Ichabod moaned, his head collapsing forward. Andy couldn't stop, mesmerized by the tension in Ichabod's stomach and thighs. He stroked down, flicked another rotation of his hand, and then stroked up, a steady beat. He could feel Ichabod's cock harden even further and his thighs stilling, gripping tight to Andy's sides. Ichabod had stopped moving at all, his hands trembling against Andy's chest. Andy could feel his pulse in his cock, beating stronger and faster, and then Ichabod let out a prolonged cry, and Andy felt the throb in his cock and the splash of cum just below his chin. Ichabod throbbed again and again, and Andy felt the aftermath of each spasm land wetly on his chest and stomach.

It was like watching the dawn, watching Ichabod come back to himself, tilting his head back up, sweat-drenched tendrils of hair plastered to his forehead, those fathomless sea-green eyes opening with a shudder to fix their gaze on him. Andy's cock strained within its confines, Ichabod's intense regard like a hot lick. Ichabod began to roll his hips again, and without releasing Andy's eyes, he dragged one finger into the cum under his chin and slowly traced a trail down to one nipple, through more cum, across the other nipple, down across Andy's stomach and through more cum.

Andy never saw Ichabod's finger complete its journey, he only felt it, the heat and the knowledge that Ichabod was striping him with his cum causing him to jerk ever more needily. Ichabod's finger had just reached his navel when Andy's orgasm burst through him. He was suddenly gasping for air as spasm followed spasm, Ichabod's warm heat continuing to stroke against him to the point of painful sensitivity.

"Stop. Please," Andy moaned, using his hands to hold Ichabod still. He breathed in deeply, waiting for his heart rate to slow. He almost said aloud that if they kept going like this, Ichabod would likely be the death of him, but he realized the expression was a bit too close to home to be used so lightly.


	5. Chapter 5

It only occurred to Andy the next day after a night of Katrina-free sleep that he also needed to practice pulling the shadow in and out of himself.

"It actually sounds a bit perverted," commented Jenny, who was present for the exercise in case something went wrong. Jenny had warned him that there was a good chance she wouldn't know what to do if something did go wrong, but both Ichabod and Andy felt reassured to have her there.

Jenny was not much impressed with Andy's ability to have the shadow pick up a book and lumber around the apartment. She had not lost sight of what the shadow had almost done to the two men, not to mention the one that had caused Andy's aunt's death. However, she acknowledged the extra body to avoid bridge tolls could come in handy.

Ichabod and Jenny were both seated on the couch, whereas Andy stood facing the shadow, which was a few feet away. Andy closed his eyes and merged his mind with the shadow's. It was like reeling in a piece of himself, pulling and pulling, and there was a feeling like a wave washing over him.

Ichabod was holding him upright when he came back to his senses.

"Not the most elegant action, but you pulled the shadow into yourself very smoothly. The near fainting, however, ruined the whole effect." In spite of the criticism, Jenny was smiling at him.

"You wobbled a bit," reassured Ichabod, rubbing circles on his back. "I was just standing by in case you fell over, which you didn't. How do you feel?"

"Wobbly," admitted Andy. "It's not going to help much if I faint every time I do this."

"Or close your eyes," added Jenny. "I don't think you can afford to be unaware of what's happening around you, especially if it's serious enough to warrant calling out a shadow."

Andy nodded. "Right. Time to bring our friend back out to play."

"Are you sure you're ready to do this so soon?" asked Ichabod somewhat anxiously.

"I'm hoping the more I do this, the easier it'll get."

Andy had never tried to connect to the shadow like this. The only time he had pushed the shadow out had been while he was in the dream with Katrina, and he was separate from the shadow. He tried not to close his eyes, allowing his focus to fall on an indistinct point in the space before him and feeling for the shadow. He felt like he was wandering around in his own head. He worked to bring his thoughts in order, to bring a purpose to his interior examination in spite of his peripheral awareness of his exterior surroundings. It was a little bit like the police dividing an area into quadrants for a search under a thick fog. He mentally partitioned his interior space into sections, and he went through them one after another, looking for something that felt other than himself. He wandered through numerous spaces, but he could tell they were all of his own creation. He picked up objects, some of them distinct, some of them less so, but again, all of them subject to his manipulation. Then, he wrapped his hands around it, a solid yet shapeless warmth that pulsed faintly. It shifted slightly in his grasp. He mentally tried to change it, but he found he couldn’t. This had to be it. He pulled the entity against his chest, and with a thrust, pushed it away from himself and let go.

He blinked, and the shadow was there at his side.

"That was pretty amazing," said Jenny.

"Quite disturbing," said Ichabod. "It looked a bit like cell division. Your body seemed to lose focus, and then it was like you dividing, and then there were the two of you. How do you feel now?"

Andy did a mental self-check. He knew where he was, who he was with, and what he was doing. "Okay, I think."

"It just suddenly appeared,” said Jenny. “A much better trick than using it for carpool lanes, for sure."

Ichabod got Andy a glass of lemonade, and in that time, he was able to pull the shadow back within him.

Andy was smiling. "I can feel how to do it," he beamed, taking the proffered glass.

"Hopefully you won't need to," said Ichabod thoughtfully.

.....

Andy called the shadow out of and into himself one more time and called it quits. Jenny excused herself since she was, fortunately, not needed. Ichabod went to heat up some canned tomato soup and make grilled cheese, neither of which Andy got to before he fell asleep.

Or more accurately, he fell into the church with Katrina standing there, the shadow motionless nearby.

"It is like living in a magic trick. It vanishes and then appears. And never in the same place. Very unsettling. But it looks like you're getting more adept at it."

Andy nodded. He was already starting to drift.

"Leave him with me for now. It gets too quiet in here."

Andy fell out of the dream.

.....

He was awake in time for dinner, but Ichabod gave him a skeptical look when he described his very brief encounter with Katrina.

They cuddled on the couch for a while, but Andy recognized the potential for sexy time was gone when Ichabod had to gently shake him awake so that they could go to sleep in their bed.

Andy woke the next morning feeling much restored. Ichabod suggested he put off further practice until later in the day and suggested a walk to the Coit Tower flea market before lunch.

The typical summer morning fog had not yet dissipated when they set out, but it wasn't cold by San Francisco standards, and there was no wind. They looked in the windows of their fellow merchants on the street and exchanged greetings with those they happened to see.

The flea market was bustling when they got there. Similar to the transformation of the Ferry Building, the introduction of the flea market had changed the quaint post-earthquake and WPA edifice from a mildly interesting side trip for city tourists to a must-see nexus of food trucks, kitsch, genuine antiques, and city atmosphere and views.

They each got a bag of fresh-out-of-the-fryer donut holes, a particular favorite of Ichabod's and definitely high on Andy's list of favorite foods. They wandered the stalls, but they found nothing of particular interest. Ichabod didn't pick up on any spelled objects, so they just enjoyed browsing, licking sugar off their fingers, and bumping shoulders amidst the crowd.

They returned to the shop and flipped the open sign. Hours had been a bit erratic as of late, and it was always good to have some open times. Ichabod worked through a few boxes of recent acquisitions while Andy dealt with the mail.

Andy slit open a half-sized manila envelope and extracted a folded newsletter.

"Lamberton Academy," Andy read. "Is that where you went to school in England?"

Ichabod left his boxes and joined Andy at the counter. "For what you would consider high school and college here in the colonies, yes."

Andy cast a glance through the newsletter headlines. "I expected the news to be a bit more magical, you know?"

"Disappointed?"

"Perhaps. Looks like you're having a school celebration next summer. It says to save the date for celebration of the school's sexcentennial. That sounds promising. Don't know if I could do it a hundred times in a row though."

Andy looked up to find Ichabod watching him.

"600th anniversary. As much as I like your mind in the gutter, there is a time and place. However, we should really think about taking a vacation together," said Ichabod. "Some time away from here."

"Have you traveled a lot - outside of studying in England?"

"A lot of Europe. A few trips to Asia. Down to Peru. Australia. And a summer wandering through India." Ichabod shrugged as if it weren't much.

Andy hesitated before sharing, "I've never traveled outside the U.S." He felt distinctly uncultured.

"Then we definitely need to begin to remedy that." Ichabod smiled at him and leaned over the counter to kiss him. Looking down at the newsletter, he said, "We can definitely plan a trip to England for next summer. I would, in fact, like to go. But we should do something sooner. What would you prefer? Culture? Drinks by a pool?"

"Could we do a bit of both?"

Ichabod kissed him again. "Definitely. Maybe something in early December? Fewer crowds. Good deals."

Andy nodded, feeling happy. "I was just thinking we haven't seen much of the sisters lately. Should I call to see if they're up for coffee and pie?"

Ichabod agreed and flipped through the newsletter while Andy made the calls.

Andy was pleased to announce that both Mills were available later that afternoon and would meet them at Sunny Q around four. Andy looked around Ichabod to see what he was reading. "Obituaries? Really?"

Ichabod shrugged. "There are far fewer deaths among my school fellows, so the occasional passing is always remarkable. Three in the past six months. Two relatively young, and from the same class in the 70s."

"That's not long after you, is it?"

"Class of 1961. Not long afterwards at all."

Andy still marveled at the fact that Ichabod was chronologically almost 80, whereas physically he appeared not much older than Andy. What did this portend for the future, where Andy would grow old so much faster than Ichabod? It was hard to wrap his head around.

The newsletter was put aside for the moment, and Andy worked through the rest of the mail. Ichabod returned to his boxes. A few customers wandered through the store, and one even bought a lusterware candy dish.

They closed the shop again at quarter to four and headed south on Grant to cross Columbus Avenue into Chinatown. A few blocks later, they turned west and walked up the hill to Andy's favorite hole-in-the-wall cafe. The apple pie had won over the Mills sisters, and the place had become their de facto place to meet up for a late afternoon sugar fix.

When they entered the cafe, Jenny and Abbie were already at table, enjoying a cup of mediocre coffee and a slice of truly excellent pie. Even Ichabod had been somewhat converted, and since they had both had donut holes that very morning, Ichabod forewent his usual to make it a coffee/pie foursome.

"How is shadow play going?" asked Jenny.

"I ended up falling asleep before dinner. Ichabod had to wake me up to drag me off to bed. I haven't even given the whole thing a try yet today."

"Jenny told me about the visions of Katrina," said Abbie. "You really think it's her?"

Andy looked over at Ichabod before answering. "It looks like it is."

"So far, it seems like she's helping you. No attempts to mess with you."

Andy nodded. "She warned me about someone after me because she says if I die, what's left of her does, too."

"Therefore all the," Abbie waved her hands in the air searching for words, "in and out with your alter ego."

"As I said. Definitely pervy," said Jenny.

Ichabod nodded in agreement but looked distinctly unhappy.

"Whatever, Crane," commented Abbie. "I know you're worried for your man, here, but being grumpy about it isn't going to help." Abbie turned her attention back to Andy. "No additional attempts on your life?"

Andy shook his head, his mouth full of pie. He didn't like worrying Ichabod, so after swallowing, he said, "Moving on to more interesting topics, how are things going with Señor Morales?"

"Luke?" said Abbie. "As good as things can go between two cops. It's not like we haven't known each other for years. We're just moving it to a different level."

Andy could see a quip on the tip of Ichabod's tongue, but Ichabod said nothing.

"In any case, the interesting pairing of the day is my sister and the sophisticated Miss Irving."

That got Andy and Ichabod's attention, and they turned to look at Jenny, who had been rather quiet overall. From her expression now, Andy suspected she knew her sister would out her, and she had been laying low.

"Well, well, Miss Mills," cooed Ichabod. "Please tell."

Jenny truly looked uncomfortable but spoke. "We connected at the party, and we've been out several times since..."

"They are together with shocking frequency," interjected Abbie.

"She's very together, sure about herself, and I like that in a woman." Jenny was completely blushing at this point.

"I guess we should spare her sensibilities while the rose is still in bud," commented Ichabod.

"A bit of an age difference?" Andy couldn't help noting.

"Pot and kettle," Jenny replied with a little heat. "And she's very fit for any age."

"That's not what I meant," said Andy. "It's just you'll live so much longer, and she's already decades older than you. Something I've been thinking about us."

"Oh," sighed Jenny. There was definitely an awkward silence for a while. "It's something I'm just not thinking about. And witches don't have great relationship track records, so it may not be important in the end." Andy felt horrible for depressing Jenny.

Ichabod put his arm around Andy's shoulder. "You broke my curses. You are it for me. We'll grow old together, and we'll deal with it like everyone has to." He gave Andy a brush of lips against his cheek.

"Exactly," affirmed Abbie.


	6. Chapter 6

Hugs were exchanged when they left Sunny Q, everyone a bit more introspective than when they had arrived.

Andy and Ichabod returned to the shop and up to the apartment. While Ichabod did some surfing on his computer, Andy practiced controlling the shadow. Now that he knew how it felt, reaching for the shadow was not very hard, and soon the shadow was standing at his side.

"It's quite strange to find that it mirrors whatever you are wearing when you bring it out," commented Ichabod, having looked up.

"I wonder what it would look like if I did this while naked." Andy gave Ichabod what he hoped was a suggestive look.

That got a laugh out of Ichabod, which cheered Andy. "It would be interesting to see how anatomically correct it would be, but given how hard it is to manipulate, I'm afraid your dirty thoughts about a ménage à trois, well sort of at any rate, are not achievable."

"That's not what I was thinking!" denied Andy. At least not at that moment.

"Hmmm," Ichabod said thoughtfully. His phone rang, and he picked up. "Hello Luke. We just left Abbie less than an hour ago. 450 Sutter. Suite 1643. Dr. Richard King. We'll be there as soon as possible."

Andy looked at Ichabod questioningly.

"Would you believe dancing in a doctor's office?" said Ichabod.

.....

"The downstairs tenant reported the noise to security, and when they looked into the office, they found the doctor, Richard King, his receptionist, and one of his patients, dancing wildly through the office. Fortunately, they didn't go in and knew to call me or Abbie." Luke had met them in the hallway, knowing from experience to stay well away from scenes like this. "You can see them through the office window. Looks like they're flagging and bumping into furniture. Strangest thing is there's no music that I can hear."

Ichabod nodded and Andy could tell he needed a moment to think this through.

"How are you at basketball?" Ichabod asked after a bit.

"Short Asian," answered Andy. "How do you think?"

"Chances are, we're going to lose some motor control getting close enough to figure out what's causing this. That'll make it hard to bag the object and dissipate the spell."

"Basketball?" Andy inquired.

"We'll have a better chance if we can have a bag stationary and drop the object into it when passing."

"But if I'm holding the bag, literally, once you get near, I'll start dancing, too."

"Therefore, we need someone, or rather something, to hold the bag that isn't affected by the spell."

Andy wasn't following. Did he mean taping the bag to a chair or something? Then it came to him.

"Ready to take your alter ego out for a spin?" asked Ichabod.

"We have to give it a name," Andy replied, already reaching for the shadow in his mind. "But not now."

Luke gave an audible gasp, and Andy knew the shadow had emerged. Ichabod had a spell neutralizing bag in his hands, ready to go.

"My control of his fine motor skills is still not great," said Andy, concerned.

"It just has to hold the two sides of the bag and keep it open."

"Shit. All I've practiced with are books."

Ichabod perked up. "Luke, can you find me two books, with hard covers, not soft?"

"I'll check with the resident downstairs. Be right back."

"Okay, Andy, let's see if you can get a grip." Ichabod held out one edge of the bag, and Andy tried to get the shadow to close its hand around it. However, when Ichabod let go of the bag, its smooth and thin surface would slip out of the shadow's hand. Andy tried several times.

"I just can't get it to close its hand tightly enough," grumbled Andy, frustrated.

"Here you go," interrupted Luke, holding out two bound volumes of some business journal.

"Excellent, Luke. Thank you." Ichabod took one edge of the bag and folded it between the pages of one book. Holding the book spine down, he asked Andy to have the shadow grab the book.

The thickness made all the difference. Andy felt triumphant when Ichabod let go of the book and it remained firmly in the shadow's grasp, the edge of the bag caught firmly between its hand and the pages of the book.

It was little effort to do the same with the other side of the bag, and the shadow now held the bag open in front of itself, both sides of the bag wedged into the two books.

"Your own movable basketball court," commented Luke.

"Mr. Brooks," said Ichabod as he made a formal bow. "May I have the pleasure of this dance?"

Andy laughed and took Ichabod's hand and entered the office.

He wasn't laughing seconds later when the compulsion to dance overtook them. The three occupants of the office looked near exhaustion, twitching as they stumbled around, their faces tired in spite of their evident alarm at the situation. Their expressions didn't change when the shadow entered the office, another sign of how tired they were.

"Have it stay behind the desk, away from the others. It's going to be hard enough to make the shot without them in the way." Andy found it a bit distracting to be controlling the shadow while Ichabod was essentially spinning him around in a silent waltz. As Luke had noted, there was no music.

Ichabod indicated no sign of the spelled object in the reception area, so he suggested they dance out of the reception room and into the examination room. In spite of the bizarre circumstances, Andy couldn't help but register how graceful Ichabod was, swinging him through the exam room doorway without either of them hitting the door frame. Andy was not quite as graceful once in the room, knocking over a standing tray with his hip on a turn.

"Not in here," said Ichabod into his ear. "Must be in his private office."

Andy found himself almost enjoying it as Ichabod swept him back into the reception area, moved them in steps from side to side to position them in range of the private office doorway, and then took him in a turn that spun them neatly inside.

"How typical," commented Ichabod. Andy turned his head to follow his gaze and saw a shelf of porcelain figurines. "Every doctor I have ever known collects something eccentric and displays it in their office. The question is which figurine it is."

They swept past the shelf, and Ichabod let go of Andy's waist to reach out for a figurine.

"Not it," he said, now looking around for what to do with the object in his hand. "I'm afraid there's no help for it," and he let go of the figurine, which flew outwards and shattered against the side of the desk, littering the carpet with shards of porcelain.

"And back we go," sighed Ichabod, their steps now crunching in spite of the plush carpeting. This time, Ichabod allowed them to dance past without reaching out, just focusing on the feeling of the spell.

"I'm almost positive it's the couple, second group from the right."

Andy spun his head and located a pair of lovers, separate figurines of a man and a woman in Grecian drapery, that were placed together on the cusp of a full embrace.

"The ones in the Greek toga-like outfits?" Andy asked.

"Yes," Ichabod confirmed. "I'm going to reach for at least one of them, but then I'm going to turn us and you'll have a chance in case I miss. Ready?"

Andy nodded, and they danced to the shelf. Ichabod reached, and he was able to grab one of the figurines but knocked over the second. He swung Andy around, and Andy was able to grab the second by its base.

"Okay, Mr. Brooks, time to show me your athletic prowess."

"I thought I've already done that," smirked Andy. "Numerous times."

"Hah!" laughed Ichabod. "On the court!"

They had danced back into the reception area. The doctor, receptionist, and patient were essentially slumped on chairs, their feet jerking on occasion. Andy ignored them and focused on the shadow. "I'll go first," he said.

They danced closer and closer, Ichabod trying to maintain a steady sideways motion in spite of the compulsion of the unheard beat. Andy timed it, and as he drew near the shadow, gave a toss.

The figurine hit the corner of one of the books, bounced off the shadow’s arm, and fell undamaged to the floor. Andy groaned. It was going to take an amazing dance move to retrieve it.

Ichabod turned them to get themselves into position. A step away and then a step towards. Again Andy marveled at how smoothly he moved, and with a flick of his wrist, the figurine was in the air and dropped neatly into the bag.

Like pressing pause on a music player, the compulsion stopped. There was a fair bit of moaning as the doctor and the two others collapsed fully. Ichabod finished a final turn, and held Andy firmly, keeping him from spinning into and probably over the desk.

"I guess it doesn't always take two," Andy gasped between breaths. Dancing was hard work.

.....

While tidying up loose ends with Luke, Andy got a text from his soon-to-be-former landlord. Shit. Sure enough, he still had his extra apartment keys on his key ring. He needed to return them.

"He's been really great. I should get over there and drop them off," Andy said after explaining.

"I should get these back to the shop," Ichabod said.

"I'm so close to BART. I can get out there and back in less than an hour."

"You'll watch out for bicycles?"

Andy leaned in for a hug and kiss. "I'll be extra vigilant, and I'll call you when I'm safely back on BART."

"I'll meet you at the Montgomery Street station," Ichabod insisted.

Andy sighed but acquiesced. It was incredibly sweet.

.....

Andy dropped off the errant keys without incident and headed back down 16th Street to the station.

He had gone about a block and a half when someone grabbed him and pulled him into a side street. The figure was wearing a loose hoodie and baggy jeans. Rather than fight back, Andy focused on bringing out his secret weapon. They were now essentially in the shadow cast by the canopy of a leafy tree, and Andy sensed that anything that was being planned was going to happen soon. There was a high-pitched shriek of surprise, the sound of metal hitting the sidewalk, and a relaxation of the grip on his arm. Andy focused on moving the shadow towards his assailant, and next thing he knew, soft footfalls faded as they ran away. Andy let go of his focus and looked in the direction of the footfalls. He could see the figure further down the street. However, the hood was up, and Andy couldn't get a glimpse of his attacker's face.

He took some deep breaths as the surge of adrenaline receded. Then he pulled the shadow back inside himself. It had definitely proven its use today.

Andy looked down and found a knife. It was a switchblade with an ornately carved ivory handle, if Andy was not mistaken. He folded it shut and pocketed it.

He took one more look to reassure himself that the attacker was nowhere near. He hurried back to the business of 16th Street. Ichabod was going to be furious, but Andy couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth knowing he would be waiting for him at his destination.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Katrina provides some answers.

Ichabod was indeed furious when Andy told him what had happened. Unfortunately, he was mostly furious with himself for not having gone with Andy.

"You can't possibly accompany me 24/7," Andy tried to argue reasonably.

"I can definitely try," was Ichabod's retort. Ichabod had Andy pulled tight against him as they walked through the now mostly deserted financial district on the way back to the shop. Suddenly Ichabod stopped, bringing Andy to an abrupt halt as well. "I can feel a spelled object on you. What is it?"

"It's the knife," Andy realized, reaching into his pocket. He handed the switchblade to Ichabod, who turned it over once before pulling out an object bag and dropping the knife inside.

"A spelled knife and a spelled champagne glass. That's too much of a coincidence for me," said Ichabod angrily. "We need to know who's after you and why."

They had resumed walking, and Ichabod's arm was, if possible, more firmly holding him close.

"I think Katrina knows," said Andy softly.

Ichabod tensed, clearly unhappy with the thought of Katrina with Andy, even with her relatively powerless and in the equivalent of a dream.

They reached the shop without incident. Andy accompanied Ichabod down to the basement stair landing, where Ichabod left the bagged knife for the evening.

Andy found the quietness of the shop disturbing, and when Ichabod asked what he wanted for dinner, he told him that he honestly needed some people and noise.

They ended up at the Ristorante Tivoli just down the street. The bar cum restaurant was not overly busy, so they were able to get a table after a short wait.

They had a pleasant meal, sitting side by side against a wall so they could watch the room and comment quietly about the other diners. Andy appreciated the solid weight of Ichabod next to him, his thigh pressed warmly against his. Ichabod occasionally gave Andy's thigh a squeeze as if in reassurance.

They held hands for the short walk home, and once home, Ichabod reached for Andy as soon as they had divested themselves of their jackets, pulling him into an embrace and a deep kiss.

Ichabod's hands roamed all over Andy's body, stroking down his back, brushing along his aides, raking through his hair. Andy held Ichabod tight and pressed into the kiss just as he would press his mind into the shadow. He could feel a need to be a part of Ichabod, one with him.

Without stopping the kiss, they worked in tandem to remove their clothes. Shirts were a relatively simple matter of buttons. T-shirts required a moment's separation as they were lifted over their heads and then dropped to the floor. They squatted in tandem to kiss and untie their shoes, then stood to toe them off. Pants were unsnapped and unzipped, peeled down their legs and kicked away. They enjoyed the friction of rubbing their cocks against each other through their underwear before shucking those off, too.

They stood in the entryway, naked except for their socks, Ichabod holding Andy's ass and pulling him in tight. Andy had his arms up around Ichabod's neck, his face tilted upwards for their kiss, his hips jerking from the contact of their cocks.

Andy gasped through their mingled breaths as Ichabod reached between them to hold their cocks together in one hand. He stroked them firmly but gently, the delicate friction of their cocks rubbing directly together causing Andy to tremble.

Ichabod kept up the gentle stroking and a constant rhythm, and soon Andy was gasping. He spasmed, and then spasmed again and again as his cum coated Ichabod's hand and turned the gentle strokes even more languid and slick. Ichabod's grip stuttered, and Andy felt him tense against him, and there was a spurt of liquid heat against his stomach.

Andy moaned as Ichabod's hand maintained its rhythm, sending additional shivers through him as he finally settled out of his orgasm. Through it all, he held tight to Ichabod and he to him, with hands, with lips, with something more.

Andy was exhausted. He pulled out of the kiss and pulled Ichabod to the bathroom, where they finally removed their socks and took a simple shower to wash away the cum. Damp yet warm, they tumbled into bed, wrapped around each other as they fell into a satisfied slumber.

.....

Andy was back in the church. He always seemed to regain awareness in the same place. He looked around, and Katrina was seated on the altar steps but already looking at him. She was flanked to either side by tall brass candelabra, each with five lit candles, the ever present flickering light dancing across her hair and skin. He expected his shadow to be at her side, ready to serve her, she looked so commanding. He finally found his shadow, motionless by a pillar on the opposite side of the aisle.

Andy walked into the center aisle and couldn't help but look at the body pierced with arrows, the severed head, the pierced body on the cross. It was all familiar and yet not. He walked up to the altar steps and turned to seat himself on the steps a few feet from Katrina.

"Why does this place feel so familiar?" he asked. It was not the first question he had planned to ask, but it was foremost in his mind at the moment.

"This is my conception of the Shrine of St. Francis. Meili and I took you there many times when you were little. It's not very faithful to the original, but the parts that resonate with me are all here."

Andy looked around. He could vaguely remember different things in different positions.

He turned to look at Katrina. "Someone tried to kill me again, but the shadow scared him off. Thank you."

Katrina acknowledged his thanks with a tilt of her head. "Your safety is in my best interest."

Andy knew the amount of time he had with Katrina was uncertain at best, so he asked what he needed to know. "Who is trying to kill me?"

Katrina rose to her feet. "I like to move around when I tell a story."

It was clear there was no way to hurry her answer. Andy just stayed seated and let her speak.

"Witches don't love very well," she began. "There's something in our nature that makes a long-lasting and loving relationship difficult to begin with. Then you add in the element of time and the challenge of keeping even a good relationship going for over a century. They don't often happen, and those that even begin rarely last.

"I fell in love, perhaps truly in love, with another witch, Abraham Brunt. With the benefit of hindsight, I wonder if we would have lasted. The odds are we would not have. However, he was taken from me while I was completely in love with him, and so he remains in my memory.

"He was beguiled by a witch of little skill but enormous ambition. She was married to a retriever of objects, the first rung on her ladder of ambition, and she even had a son - a rarity for witches - and through the retriever, she expanded her contacts and connections and met my Abraham, her key to rising further.

"I am a very skilled witch, but I admit Abraham was even more skilled than I. He was able to use magic to obscure the signs of their affair. But he was also weak. He never realized he was being used. The witch was using him to learn, and she ended up learning from, even I have to admit it, one of the best.

"This affair went on for over ten years. I will accept my culpability in this for not having figured out what was going on sooner. It was a slip. Literally. A sales slip from a jeweler's for an emerald necklace. It was a relatively cheap thing, but Abraham had never given such a necklace to me.

"My suspicions aroused, it was not that hard to find out the recipient of the necklace. It was Adrienne Crane, Ichabod's mother."

Here Katrina paused, likely for dramatic effect Andy thought. In fact, he had connected some of the dots earlier on in her story, so the big reveal was not the shock it could have been. But Katrina still had not answered his question.

"By the time I found out about them, Adrienne had developed some measure of skill. She was no longer a hack although she was far from adept. I needed to find out more about her, so I started an affair with her husband."

Andy gasped at the casualness with which she revealed this, and he noticed Katrina took some satisfaction in finally getting a reaction from him.

"It was so easy. Men are so easy. You can so easily figure out what feeds their ego, makes them feel complete, arouses them."

Andy couldn't help but cringe under Katrina's steady gaze as she said that. It was as much about him as it was her. Then she turned to continue her perambulation around the church.

"I found out all about Adrienne from her husband, Randolph. Her love for her son, if not for her husband. Her love of children, for that matter. She was godmother to some girl and doted on her. Where her workshop was located, when she was out of the house, when she was most likely meeting up with Abraham. Her love of emeralds. Her cheap taste in clothes. Her natural hair color. Her slovenly housekeeping skills.

"It wasn't hard to plan her death. Her workshop was in this old Victorian. Ripe for burning. I set all the objects in place and gave the final piece to Randolph, something I knew he would give to his wife. Which he did. And when she brought the object into her workshop, the triggered spell set the workshop ablaze.

"But she wasn't gone. Somehow, she had managed to instill her essence in an object, thereby avoiding death. It was not something I had guessed Abraham had taught her. And when I returned to Abraham, I realized how much I had truly underestimated her. Abraham no longer recognized me. All memories of me had been pulled from his mind, including his love for me. I knew that spell, and it could only be achieved through a gift from the victim. I checked. The only gift from Abraham had been that necklace.

"I went back to Randolph, but he had no idea where the necklace Abraham had given Adrienne had gone or even that it had existed. I suspect I was less than subtle, and Randolph realized that I was involved in Adrienne's death and that he had helped. The poor man shot himself, I heard. She was hardly worth it."

Up to that point, Andy had been taken in by the story, but her final words brought home to Andy how unhinged she was. She had no moral compass. Andy shivered, realizing he felt truly afraid of this woman who had been his mother.

"With Randolph out of the picture but knowing Adrienne could return at any time, I set my sights on dear little Ichabod to get back at that woman." She paused and looked at Andy. "Your little Ichabod now, I should say." She gave a little chuckle and shook her head.

"I also did not foresee how all that would fall out. But now I am getting ahead of myself."

And still not telling me who is after me, thought Andy, holding his tongue. He was very conscious that he had already been in the dream longer than ever before, and he was growing worried he would wake up without the answer he needed.

"Dear little Ichabod. Another foolish and easily manipulated man. I cozied up to him and sure enough, he knew where the emerald necklace had gone because he had taken it. I told him my sad story and set him off on his hero's quest."

"A totally bogus story about your non-existent father," commented Andy wryly. Andy was angry on Ichabod’s behalf. He was a man who felt things deeply, yet here was Katrina, treating everything like a frivolous game.

"When the truth presents complications, one simply alters the story to serve one's needs," responded Katrina, clearly unaffected by Andy's tone. "But he failed me, too."

"Hence the curse."

"Well, yes. I was angry, but I have always been a planner. I knew Adrienne was still out there, and I wanted to hurt her badly. How better than through the suffering of her own dear boy? And I confess I wanted to hurt Ichabod for failing me.

"But I didn't want to kill Ichabod too soon. I wanted Adrienne to know what I had done. I was also aware that Adrienne would be after me. It all needed to be planned."

"You always liked planning," said Andy before he could stop himself. His mother had loved the planning of road trips, parties, projects. Clearly it extended to elaborate ways to destroy people as well.

"You would know that about me, wouldn't you? My dear sweet boy."

Andy winced at that. Her use of that endearment now.

"It was quite diverting. First to find out more about Ichabod, his likes and dislikes. I adopted little Meili, saved her from a horrible life in what was essentially indentured service in a brothel. She was so scared and grateful and malleable.

"An unfortunate and fatal accident for Randolph's long time assistant. Poor Ichabod, alone in his new role, heartbroken, in need of help.

"He didn't fall in love with Meili, which would have been too easy, but he loved her. She was faithful to him, a true friend and helper. She took care of him through his morning hangovers and tawdry nights of debauchery. The days he was happy and those when he was less so. And then she would share all of those tribulations and joys with me, her loving mother, little knowing what I would do with that information.

"Ichabod was very eclectic in his tastes, but he tended towards big women and smaller men. A woman had broken his heart, so a man would be more likely to win it.

"Meili was never crude in her recounting, but she was observant, and the details she shared painted a very clear picture of Ichabod. He liked flirtatiousness. He liked men who were comfortable in themselves. Men with a bit of experience and not too young. He liked being chivalrous, helping those in need or pain.

"And so I adopted you, my dear sweet boy, to be Ichabod's perfect match and his destruction."

Andy sat motionless on the steps, his heart racing beneath his still exterior. It was hard to imagine planning so far into the future. He was over thirty, and she had planned this when he was an infant. He struggled to remind himself that she may have molded him, but he was still himself, not just her creation. Yet her words ate at him.

"I needed the space to be the perfect supportive mother, so I left Meili in San Francisco and moved us to Fremont, away from bad influences and chance exposure to Ichabod. I also sensed that Adrienne was still in the city, growing in essence if not fully.

"I know I was the perfect mother. You grew up charming and confident and loving. I always let you know that your sexuality was not important to me, and you came into yourself free of fears or stigma. You turned out to be gay. I couldn't have chosen better. I made sure that your first sexual experiences were good ones."

Andy cringed at the implications, but remained silent. People had gone to therapy for less, but he was going to get through this for now.

"And then I began to feel Adrienne's essence strengthening even further. I feared that she would come back for me and foil my plans before they were fully ready, so I decided to die."

She looked at Andy, and he wondered what she was thinking.

"You mourned for me, didn't you? Of course you did. It would be in your nature." She looked disdainful.

"I laid everything out before I put the essence of my being into a druidic talisman. And then I allowed my physical body to die.” Andy stared at her open-mouthed. She laughed and said, “As I mentioned before, I was highly skilled.

"I assume things went more or less according to plan. I had a spelled vase sent to an acquaintance some time later, when I thought you would be ready, and knowing her meticulous habits, I knew she would partially trigger the spell and that Ichabod would retrieve the vase and bring it into the shop and into the basement, warded against intruders.

"The presence of the vase triggered the shadow in Meili," she concluded.

At that, Andy had to stand and cry out, "But why did you have to kill her? She was your daughter! She was good to you."

Katrina looked at him as if he were an idiot. "And I was good to her. I gave her years of love and a home. How long do you think she would have survived in the hell hole I found her in?

"And it was time for you to meet Ichabod, and there's nothing that pulls at the heartstrings like someone in mourning for a loved one. I'm sure you were beautiful in your sorrow."

Andy didn't know how to describe how he felt. He was furious, at Katrina's callous attitude towards Meili's death. He was frustrated at his feeling of impotence, now and over the seeming inevitability of his life. He was fearful of hearing laid out what had actually happened in the basement.

"You were undoubtedly perfect," she continued. She had rounded the far end and was making her way up the center aisle between the statuary. "I’m sure Ichabod was salivating within minutes of meeting you. And you found a way to break the spell and bring love to dear, sweet, simple-minded Ichabod.

"I hope you're finding it worth it. I found him rather uninspiring."

Andy refused to react.

"You broke the spell, my dear sweet boy, and you triggered the start of the end, well, supposed end, for you both. The breaking of the spell was the sign that colleagues should put spelled objects out into the open. Nothing that would arouse Ichabod's suspicions on their own.

"And when the magnifying glass, the candle, and the talisman on the wooden plaque were united, that was the trigger for your own shadow to emerge, my dear sweet boy.

"The spelled floor runner to trap you in place. The ever-burning candle. The magnifying glass that focused the light into a burning point.

"So delicious. The light would burn through that thin piece of wood, and then the light would burn through Ichabod, slowly but inexorably. My crowning touch was the use of his burning flesh to free me from the talisman, ready to resume bodily form by taking over your shadow. You had to die, of course, to liberate your shadow to my occupation. And all that smoke, surrounding you and displacing the oxygen in your lungs."

Katrina was in front of him now, her hand waving in the air in imaginary smoke. For a second, something like anger passed over her face, but a blink of an eye later, she looked calm and thoughtful.

"I underestimated Ichabod’s insightfulness. He alerted you to your connection with the shadow. You saved Ichabod's life and you foiled my plan to resurrect myself.”

She stopped, her hand held in mid-wave, motionless in the air. She stared at a point beyond Andy’s shoulder. “Whatever inspired you to pull the shadow and the talisman into yourself?"

She was still looking off into the distance rather than at him, so Andy felt able to respond. "I was looking at the cube where Meili had drowned, thinking about dying and her death, and it occurred to me that her shadow must have been holding the vase when she died, and when she died, the shadow had vanished, and the bottle with it."

"So you didn't know you could pull the shadow into yourself and the talisman with it. It was a lucky guess."

"If you call having you stuck in my head lucky."

"Lucky for me, then. You pulled my essence into yourself, and here I am. In unwelcome residence but still alive."

Andy began to feel a pull. He was starting to wake, and with a start, he realized he still didn't know who was after him.

"Katrina!" he shouted to get her attention. He thought he knew the answer to his question, but he needed her to confirm it. "Tell me who's after me!"

The sight of Katrina and the church began to fade, and Andy desperately tried to hold on to it.

"Haven't you been listening? She now wants to destroy me, and now I'm in you. My silly dear sweet boy," she said, growing fainter, "you know it is Adrienne Crane."


	8. Chapter 8

Andy awoke to a dimly lit room. It looked like it was just before dawn, but he knew right away that Ichabod was no longer in the bed with him. He couldn't believe that his visit with Katrina had taken no more time than previous visits, which seemed much shorter.

"Ichabod?" he said in a normal voice. Perhaps Andy had been so restless that Ichabod had decided to sleep on the couch in order to get some rest. If so, Andy didn't want to wake him. He was, therefore, quite startled to find Jenny at the door.

"Thank goodness you're awake. We were readying the troops."

"What do you mean?" asked Andy in confusion. "What happened?"

"You would not wake up is what," Ichabod’s voice called from the living room.

"We even consulted a shaman about how to get into your dream. Ichabod and Abbie are all ready,” explained Jenny.

Andy got out of bed and pulled jeans over his boxers. Then he went out to the living room.

"God, Andy. I cannot tell you how relieved I am," said Ichabod, turning from the coffee table where he had just put down a glass of milky liquid. He rushed over and enveloped Andy in his arms.

"What's the big deal?" Andy asked. "It's not even dawn yet."

Ichabod pulled back and looked at him. "You've been asleep for almost 24 hours."

Andy suddenly noticed the light outside was getting dimmer, not lighter.

"We tried to wake you all morning, and when we couldn't, we had Jennifer find out if there was any way we could reach you in the dream. We were worried Katrina had injured you, or perhaps even worse."

Abbie had shifted from the floor to a seat on the couch. "I for one am very happy to forego getting bitten by a scorpion. And that drink just smells disgusting."

"What happened? Why were you there so long?" Ichabod was touching and patting him all over, not at all an unpleasant experience.

Andy didn't quite know where to start, so he delivered the information he had sought out Katrina for first. "Katrina told me who is after me, or, more accurately, her." Andy pulled back so he could look at Ichabod when he told him. "It's your mother, Adrienne."

Ichabod looked at Andy like he was crazy. "My mother is dead. She died in a fire fifty years ago."

"She did," Andy nodded, "but she was able to imbue an object with her essence before she died, and she is still with us," Andy couldn't bring himself to say 'alive,' "and growing in strength over time."

"You mean," said Jenny, "she put her essence in an object the way Katrina put her essence into that brass thing?"

"It's a druidic talisman," clarified Andy. At everyone's surprised look, he added, "Katrina told me."

Everyone fell silent. A growl from Andy's empty stomach broke the stillness.

"Maybe we should get some food in you, and you can tell us what happened," suggested Abbie.

"In minute detail," emphasized Ichabod.

.....

They walked into Chinatown and had wonton noodle soup at the Jackson Street Cafe. It was noisy and busy, and no one paid them much attention besides serving them their food and refilling the tea pot.

Andy attempted to describe the encounter, what Katrina had said, as well as the church, in as much detail as he could recall.

Andy expected Ichabod to focus on the infidelities of his parents, so he was surprised when Ichabod's initial reaction was to say, "It definitely sounds like the Shrine of St. Francis, doesn't it?"

"I've only been there the one time with you," commented Jenny, "but you're the one with a photographic memory. I do remember some creepy statues though."

"You have a photographic memory?" asked Andy.

"An eidetic memory, yes," confirmed Ichabod. "Don't look at me like that, Andy. It's not a super power, and most of the time, it serves little use at all. It just means once I've seen something, I can recall details about an object in great detail."

"Still, wow," said Andy, impressed.

"In any case," said Ichabod, "I think a visit to the Shrine is warranted to confirm it is the place Katrina has created in Andy's mind."

"And if we ever do need to enter his dreams," added Abbie, "we'll have a better grip on the environment even if it's not quite like the real place."

"There's a mass at 7:30p, and the building closes at 9p. That means we can get there just as mass is letting out and have almost an hour to look around."

"How do you know the times?" asked Andy in amazement. He could barely remember which days the North Beach Library was open.

"I read the sign board when Jenny and I were last there," Ichabod explained.

"Definitely a super power," said Andy.

.....

It was disorienting to be back at the Shrine. It had been at least twenty years for Andy, and his memories were impressions at best. He wondered what it was like for Ichabod to be able to recall something he had seen in detail.

The Shrine in person was actually eerier than Katrina's version. The lights were dim, probably to save on the electricity bill, and the flickering candlelight added to the unsettling feeling of the place.

Unlike in Katrina's version, the place was filled with pews. Statues were situated amidst the pews, looming over those who would be seated. There were also a lot of statues that Andy didn't recall from Katrina's shrine, and he pointed out the ones he did recall to Ichabod and Abbie.

He also explained the difference in arrangement, how the statues that were there were arranged on both sides of the center aisle.

Jenny had wandered off on her own, and when she rejoined them, she confirmed, "It's definitely a place of old magic. Now that I've spent more time here, I can really tell. That must be part of the appeal for Katrina."

"And perhaps an emotional one as well," added Ichabod. "Andy recalls coming here with her as a boy."

"Bloodthirsty lot, aren't they," commented Abbie waving a hand around to include all the statues. "Beheading, stabbing, arrows, and literally bleeding hearts."

"The Sacred Heart of Jesus," said Andy, remembering. "I'm sure that one is not in Katrina's shrine."

They left the shrine a little before closing, and Andy and Ichabod saw the women off before returning home.

"Are you afraid of going to sleep?" asked Ichabod as they strolled up busy Columbus Street. Crowds sipped drinks and coffees in bars and at outside tables along the street.

"Are you afraid of me going to sleep?" asked Andy.

"No. I'm just afraid that you won't wake up again."

Andy gripped Ichabod's hand tightly in his and they walked the rest of the way home.

.....

Andy watched it all happen as if in slow motion.

He was in the main part of the shop the following day near noon. Ichabod was down in the basement, putting some objects away. The hooded figure walked in, and without hesitation, raised a gun and fired. There were three shots, deafeningly loud in the shop, accompanied by the sound of exploding plastic and glass as the bullets passed through his body. Or rather, the body of his shadow.

They had decided that whenever he was alone in the shop, for any amount of time, that he would put the shadow in his usual place behind the counter and work elsewhere in the shop. Andy snapped out of his shock at the suddenness of the attack and hit the hooded assailant with an antique bowling pin. His attacker collapsed on the ground.

"Andy!" shouted Ichabod, racing into the room. He stopped short at the sight of Andy standing over the prone figure, bowling pin in hand. "Thank god you're okay."

"One way to get rid of that old computer," he couldn't help saying.

Ichabod kneeled and pulled back the hood. "Macey Irving?" he said incredulously looking up at Andy.

"Katrina said your mother is the one who wants to kill me. I don't understand."

Ichabod had rolled up one arm of the hoodie to expose the silver bracelet on Macey's wrist. "The bracelet is bathed in an aura of magic. Not a spell, but something deeper." Ichabod grasped the bracelet and unclasped it from the woman's wrist. He turned it in his hand.

"I recognize the two green stones," Ichabod continued. "One is the emerald that my father gave to my mother. The second is the stone I gave to Elizabeth Albion."

Andy recognized the name of the woman Ichabod had betrayed and who had placed one of the three curses Ichabod had carried for decades. "I don't understand," said Andy, "but I think we should tie her up or something and then call in our troops."

"Agreed," said Ichabod, who promptly went to put the bracelet securely behind the wards of the basement door while Andy found a bag of zip ties in a storage cupboard behind the fragment strewn counter. The shadow remained motionless, the holes torn in its body by the bullets already refilling.

They left Macey Irving tied up on the floor of the office out of sight of the street. Ichabod called both Jenny and Abbie, who were clearly planning to rush over.

"You said Katrina suspected my mother imbued her essence in an object before Katrina tried to immolate her. It well may be the emerald of the necklace my father gave her. Perhaps she gave it to Macey."

"But why is Macey trying to kill me?" Andy wondered.

"She has had the jewel for approximately 50 years, a long time for the essence it contains to have an influence."

"I guess it all makes sense then, doesn't it? The attacks started at the party, where I met her for the first time. She must have been the bicyclist, too."

Andy stood with Ichabod at the office door, waiting for the two women to arrive.

"It can't be," cried Jenny as she entered. Then she saw the decimated computer and the bullet hole in the wall behind the shadow. She ran to Macey's side.

"I knocked her out with a bowling pin," Andy said sheepishly.

"She was clearly trying to kill you," said Abbie. "There's nothing to feel bad about there."

Macey began to groan.

"Are you okay baby?" said Jenny, stroking her arm.

"I feel...," Macey began. She suddenly stiffened. "Where is it?" she cried, twisting on the floor. "Where's my bracelet? I need it!"

Jenny looked up at Ichabod and Andy.

"I recognized the green stones," said Ichabod. "I think they have done this to her."

"Where's the bracelet?" asked Jenny. "I should probably take a closer look at it."

"I put it in the basement, just in case Macey got free," replied Ichabod. "You two okay with watching her?"

"I think we can handle a trussed woman," said Abbie.

Ichabod and Jenny went into the warded basement.

"So we think the essence of Adrienne Crane is inside Jenny's girlfriend?" Abbie asked.

"It fits with everything Katrina told me," answered Andy.

Suddenly, there was a shout from the basement and feet running up the stairs. Jenny appeared in the doorway, the bracelet clutched in her hand. Ichabod, however, was right behind her and grabbed her around the waist.

"I think the spell is affecting her, too. Get the bracelet away from her!" Ichabod shouted from behind the struggling woman.

"What the hell is going on Jenny?" Abbie shouted at her sister.

Jenny began to writhe even harder and her eyes rolled back in her head. "Oh god!" cried Abbie. She reached for the bracelet, and with one hand holding firmly to her sister's wrist, she managed to twist it out of her grasp with the other.

Jenny let out a roar that had both Abbie and Andy staggering back. Abbie turned to Andy. "Get this away from her," she cried, handing him the bracelet.

Jenny continued to let out deep throated shouts as Andy backed out of the office. There was nowhere safe to store the bracelet against Jenny. She was a witch herself. There was really only one choice, wasn't there?

Andy ran to his shadow and compelled it to hold the bracelet. And before he could over think his decision, he called the shadow and the bracelet into himself.

.....

"What did you do?" shouted Ichabod as he ran out of the office. "Where's the bracelet?"

"I destroyed it," said Andy simply, feeling slightly woozy but overall okay.

"Oh, God. What have you done?"

.....

Andy ignored any fears about having absorbed the bracelet while they took care of Jenny and Macey. Both women collapsed when Andy destroyed the bracelet. Rather than try to carry the women up to Ichabod's apartment, they brought down cushions from Ichabod's couch and a sleeping bag and lay the women on them.

Andy and Abbie debated the merits of taking Macey in for attempted murder while Ichabod went and made them all tea.

There was little to do in the office, but none of them wanted to leave the unconscious women alone, either out of concern or mistrust.

About an hour after Andy had destroyed the bracelet, Jenny came to. She was somewhat disoriented, and she had little recollection of what happened immediately preceding her collapse. She was, however, very concerned about Macey, who still lay unconscious.

Jenny had a hard time believing that she had been possessed by a dead woman, but she could not account for her behavior, none of which she could remember.

"Did you notice the magic on Macey's bracelet?" asked Ichabod.

"Of course," grumbled Jenny. "But the bracelet could have been anything, and I don't think I ever touched it. Macey usually took it off when we went to bed."

Jenny also had a hard time believing that Macey had attempted to kill Andy not just once but four times. However, she had seen the dead woman at the party, helped with the wounds on Ichabod's back from the bicycle incident, and seen the bullets and the damage they had done behind the counter. She had a hard time, but she was coming around to accepting the situation.

Macey's eyes fluttered open a little after five, over four hours after the destruction of the bracelet.

"God," she moaned. "My head is throbbing something fierce."

Jenny ran a hand over Macey's brow and told her that she had been through a very bad spell. She did not say literally.

When Macey was up to it, they all went up to the apartment. They called out for a pizza, and Macey listened in stunned silence as they recounted to her what had happened.

"Adrienne gave me that necklace just before she died," Macey sighed. "I thought it was the most beautiful thing. Adrienne was a very important part of my life, and I wore that necklace for years. It wasn't until I was older that I wanted to wear other necklaces as well, so I had the emerald set into the bracelet."

"What about the second emerald?" asked Ichabod. "Where did you get it?"

"I don't remember," said Macey. "Is it important?"

"It's not important," assured Ichabod, "at least not now. We can talk about it later."

Andy noted that Macey was the oldest of them physically, but at this moment, she looked like a little girl who had just woken up from a very bad dream.

Abbie, Jenny, and Macey left around 8, the question of what, if anything, to do about the attempts on Andy's life unresolved. Andy wasn't inclined to do anything. It really wasn't Macey's fault if she was under the influence of Adrienne Crane.

By 8:30, Andy was yawning in exhaustion. Ichabod tucked him into bed and gave him a kiss, telling him he would come to bed soon.

.....

Unsurprisingly, Andy found himself in Katrina's version of the Shrine of St. Francis upon falling asleep. This time, he looked around, comparing the contents of the church with the real shrine, what was and was not there and where things had been moved.

Katrina emerged from around a pillar. "Come and see this."

He followed her around the pillar and found himself in the middle of the south aisle. There were two balls of dark grey smoke with black smoky tendrils twisting and turning in and out of the balls.

"They appeared not long ago," said Katrina walking around the balls of smoke, giving them a good clearance. "Do you know what they are?" Clearly she knew.

Andy suspected that one of those balls of smoke was Adrienne Crane, but he shook his head and said nothing.

"These two formless entities are growing stronger and gaining shape. My dear, sweet, and oh so foolish boy. I can only surmise how you brought this about, but these two entities are Adrienne Crane and Abraham Brunt."

"What will happen when they have regained shape?" asked Andy.

"I can only imagine," smiled Katrina. "But be prepared. When they are at their full power, there will be three of us in this place, and if we wish it, we will be able to hold you here and not let you leave."

"Why would you want to hold me here?" asked Andy, now with a measure of concern.

"To keep you alive, of course," responded Katrina, "until we can figure out a way to escape from here and back into the real world."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A spelled object and a good dose of magical mayhem and violence, including a fair amount of blood.

For whatever reason, Andy was not drawn into Katrina's world for the next few days. He had trouble sleeping for days after destroying the bracelet, something he had never experienced before. Ichabod often woke, sensing that he was having trouble sleeping, and they lay awake together. There was a middle-of-the-night orgasm more than once, and Andy couldn't deny that it helped to relax him and fall back asleep.

Still, he couldn't shake a constant anxiety about what was happening inside Katrina's world, which was inside his head, and what this meant for him and for Ichabod.

Ichabod was acutely aware of Andy's restlessness, and working in the shop was interspersed by walks around the neighborhood. They took a whole afternoon off to visit the new aquarium at Pier 39, and Andy even dragged Ichabod to a movie.

It was a definite distraction to get the call from Luke.

"Hey guys," Luke began. He had known Ichabod for years, but now that he and Abbie were dating, he seemed uncertain as to how to interact with them. "I've got a potentially radioactive bowl of trash in the Sunset. Bring your hazmat suits."

He gave them the address in the western part of the city, next to the Pacific and south of Golden Gate Park. The house was of no particular distinction, what real estate agents described as a basic five, with the common feature of many houses in the area of a central atrium. Luke was waiting for them in front of the house. The owners, Andy guessed, were an older Asian couple who began to speak to Andy in Chinese the moment he walked up.

"My Chinese is not great," said Andy, "but they are definitely talking about ghosts. They are freaked out."

"Mr. And Mrs. Sung said they were doing their recycling for the week," said Luke. "They had a large amount of compost from cleaning out the refrigerator on top of the usual stuff from their kitchen bin, so they used a large mixing bowl to dump everything into to carry it down to the garage where the large compost bin is." Everyone in San Francisco had three garbage bins - green for compost, blue for recycling, and black for whatever couldn't go in the other two. "But the moment they dumped the stuff in the bowl, it began to glow and the compost started giving off a very strong smell."

"What kind of smell?" asked Andy.

Luke smiled. "It will soon be your pleasure to find out."

Ichabod had brought nose plugs and handed Andy a pair. He also took out a pocket Geiger counter, which had elicited questioning looks from Andy when he had brought it out of storage.

They walked up the front steps, and Ichabod turned on the Geiger counter and adjusted its settings. Almost immediately, there were pops and clicks, indicating the presence of radioactive isotopes. With each step, the pops and clicks increased in tempo and frequency. When they walked through the front door, the noise was a steady staccato, but now they were assaulted by a fetid smell of rot and decay that was strong even with their nose plugs in.

There was a strange glow from the kitchen doorway, and when they looked in, sure enough, there was a glowing bowl of kitchen scraps.

"Definitely spelled," said Ichabod, "and I'm guessing the glaze is complicating things."

Andy repeated, "The glaze?"

"Notice the bright orange hue. This is a very distinctive color from the 1940s that was created using uranium. After the bombs over Japan, no one wanted radioactive dishes, so companies found other ways to produce an orange glaze. They were never able to replicate the intensity of color, however."

"And you know this how? Something you read?"

"Actually, an acquaintance worked in a lab that used radioactive isotopes. He had to wear a badge that monitored how many milliroentgens he had been exposed to. When they checked his badge, the reading was abnormally high. Turned out he tossed the contents of his pockets and his badge into an orange bowl like this every night. He ended up donating the bowl to the lab to use when they visited schools to demonstrate the Geiger counter."

"I take it the radioactivity is pretty low then."

"Very. The counter is just alarmingly noisy. However, we shouldn't take chances. Do you think your shadow can carry the bowl down to the garage?"

Andy hesitated for a moment. He had not brought forth the shadow since destroying the bracelet. But the hesitation quickly passed. He focused, and it was alarmingly easy how easy it was now to bring out the shadow.

"As I thought. The garage stairs are through here. If you would both follow me?"

Andy had the shadow pick up the bowl and preceded it down the stairs.

"If it could dump the bowl into the green bin?"

Fortunately, the bin opening was large, and it was not hard to position the bowl over the bin and have the shadow just let it drop.

There was an almost immediate dimming of the glow. Ichabod reached into the bin and moved things around. Then he pulled the nearly empty bowl out of the bin.

"If you would be so kind as to turn on the water at the utility sink next to the laundry..."

Andy rushed over and did so. Ichabod rinsed out the bowl, and once the bowl contained nothing but water, the virulent stink also vanished.

Andy pressed the button for the garage door opener, and the two of them joined the owners and Luke on the sidewalk.

"All sorted then?" asked Luke.

Ichabod nodded and approached the couple. The elderly pair backed away from him and the bowl, and Andy figured they wouldn't mind them taking the bowl away.

.....

Andy spent the ride back to North Beach intermittently waving the Geiger counter wand over the bowl, which was stowed in the back seat. Andy was ready to hold it in his lap, but Ichabod commented that he might still want children one day.

"That was fun," Andy commented when they were back in the apartment. "What can we do to top that?"

Ichabod gave him a suggestive leer and drew close. Ichabod's lips were soft and gentle, and Andy pressed into them with his own. He ran his tongue over Ichabod's lower lip and felt Ichabod shiver against him. He ran his hands along Ichabod's sides and down his hips even as he felt Ichabod's hands on his ass, pulling Andy tight against him.

Ichabod slid one hand between them and rubbed against Andy's now semi-hard cock. Andy drew in deeper breaths as Ichabod moved against him.

Ichabod unzipped Andy's pants and palmed him through the thin layer of his boxers. Andy shuddered and groaned at the sensations coming from his cock. Ichabod reached through his fly and brought his hardening cock into the air. With a tongue-deep kiss, Ichabod was dropping to take Andy into his mouth.

At first, it was all heat and spit, Ichabod's tight mouth dragging along Andy's length. Next thing Andy knew, he was trembling, his mind crowded with uncertainties and anxieties. He went completely soft, and Ichabod was soon pulling off. He stood and looked at Andy with concern clear in his eyes.

"I want to," apologized Andy. "I just..."

Ichabod touched a finger to Andy's lips, and Andy had a moment of déja vu. "It's okay. We're okay," Ichabod murmured. He pulled Andy in tight, and Andy was embarrassed to find himself crying, sobbing. He hid his face in the safety of the crook of Ichabod's neck, and he let out heaving sobs interspersed with gasps for air.

He wasn't sure how long he was lost in tears. All he knew was that Ichabod's reassuring arms were around him the whole time.

.....

They ended up making pasta for dinner, standing close as they navigated the kitchen together. They ate on the couch, thigh to thigh, and when they were done, they deposited the dishes on the coffee table and just sat on the couch cuddling.

"Bed?" asked Ichabod eventually. Andy was surprised to see that it was after ten.

"I'm scared," said Andy.

"So am I. But I'm with you. Always."

.....

Andy was not surprised to find himself in the church again that night, the first time in almost a week. When he looked for Katrina on the altar steps, he was surprised to see she was not alone.

"She's quite disappointed to find she has no magic here," Katrina said with obvious glee. "She's just a pathetic woman, what she has always been deep down."

"You should talk," retorted the woman who could only be Adrienne Crane. She was dark haired and petite compared with Katrina, but it was obvious to Andy that she had a similar inner fire. He would guess the women were well matched.

"We've been having a stand-off," Katrina said. "A few words exchanged but sticking to our own corners."

Adrienne Crane turned to face Andy. She was dressed in a dark gray blouse and an A-line black skirt. She looked how Andy imagined June Cleaver might look if she were crossed with Morticia Addams. She gave Andy an appraising glance.

"Katrina tells me you are Ichabod's true love. A bit too Romeo and Juliet for my tastes."

Andy figured silence was the wisest move at this point.

"I would kill you, but Katrina says that it would erase all three of us. Not that I really care about the other two, but I've worked very hard to keep myself alive. Until you ruined everything."

The distaste in Adrienne Crane's words was obvious, but her words also made Andy aware of the third person in the church. He was standing near Katrina, a middle aged man with an impressive chest and military bearing. Unlike the two women, however, he did not appear to have the same fire of life. He would look at Katrina and his face would take on a look of adoration. Then he would look away, and a blankness would overtake his features.

"Abraham Brunt," said Katrina, clearly having followed his gaze. "Or the small part of him that she stole from me." At this last statement, she turned a fierce glare on the other woman.

"Oh please," said Adrienne. "Don't tell me you aren't already bored of him."

Katrina looked like she would argue the point for a second, but quickly relented. "True. I thought I loved him, but there isn't much here to rekindle that love."

"He was actually this boring all along. And far too easily misled by a pretty young face. I don't see what you saw in him. At least I was using him for something."

"Not quite the point, though, is it?"

"What? The same point to your sleeping with my husband?"

Katrina began to redden.

"A man as insipid as Abraham," continued Adrienne. "One can judge by the company one keeps."

Andy found himself foolishly, he conceded, wanting to intervene before things escalated. "Why is Abraham so much less alive than the two of you?"

"He's just the memories he had of Katrina. Not much to strengthen an essence with," Adrienne mocked.

There was a crack of flesh on flesh, and it took a few moments for him to realize that Katrina had run up to Adrienne and slapped her hard. A deep redness was blooming on her left cheek.

Adrienne lifted up a hand to gingerly touch her cheek. "Well, well. If I can bruise, then I have no doubt you can bleed." With that, Adrienne raked her fingers across Katrina's face. The four red lines sprouted drops of darker red.

Katrina wasted no words on repartee and simply threw herself at the other woman. Andy watched as the two grappled, slashes of red appearing on the exposed fair skin of Katrina's arms and the backs of Adrienne's hands. The two women screeched as they laid into each other, now landing blows to the stomach and face.

Katrina let out a scream as Adrienne wrapped locks of her fiery red hair around one hand and then pulled hard. Katrina in turn back handed Adrienne hard, sending her staggering into the statue of St. Sebastian.

Both women were breathing hard, each warily watching the other.

Andy was mesmerized. He had heard of cat fights before, but he had never witnessed one before.

Suddenly Adrienne shot up and lunged at Katrina. Katrina screamed and staggered backwards, her hands clutched to her side. When Andy looked to Adrienne, he saw that she had an arrow in her hand, the point darkened with what he assumes was Katrina's blood.

Out of nowhere, Adrienne was thrown to the side, landing hard on the stone floor. Abraham stood still, his apparent defense of Katrina fulfilled for now.

"So you have a little defender," moaned Adrienne feebly. "I'll figure a way to get around him. He's too slow and plodding. Just like when he was alive."

Adrienne stayed on the floor, and from the way she held herself, Andy suspected she had bruised ribs in her fall. Katrina leaned against a pillar, her hand pressed firmly to her side, hints of blood visible between her fingers.

The initial fascination of the cat fight was gone, and all Andy wanted to do was wake himself out of there. He tried to remember what it felt like to fall out of this dream, but just when he thought he had found it, something would pull him back.

"We're too strong for you, my dear sweet boy," said Katrina. "There are three of us holding you here now. You'll never be able to leave."

.....

It soon felt like he had been there forever. The two women had pulled back to far sides of the church and hardly spared a glance for each other. Without Andy's noticing it, Abraham had moved back to Katrina's side and stood there still and silent.

Andy felt a bit like Switzerland, seated with his back to the statue of Veronica and her veil. He didn't feel sleepy at all, and he wondered if one slept in this place. A shifting of the darkness reminded Andy of his shadow, and soon the dark figure was at his side, strangely comforting.

He wondered if he really was trapped here forever. Perhaps he would want to die if that were so. Would the women stop him in order to keep themselves alive?

While he didn't fall asleep, his mind did drift. Therefore, he was not aware of how much time had gone by when he heard Katrina and Adrienne both cry out.

"Ichabod."

"Son."

Andy looked over, and sure enough there was not just Ichabod but Abbie as well. Ichabod caught his eye and ran over to him, Abbie just behind.

"How long has it been?" Andy asked.

"More than 24 hours. For a moment, we thought you were waking, but you fell back asleep," Ichabod answered. He had Andy in a hug, and it felt good.

"Katrina said I can't leave because the three of them are keeping me here."

"Then we need to eliminate their power over you," said Abbie. "Can they be hurt?"

"Yes. Katrina was stabbed by Adrienne, and I think Adrienne has a messed up rib."

At the name of his mother, Ichabod looked over to where he had heard her voice.

"You'll fight with me, won't you, Ichabod?" Adrienne implored. It was clear from her halting voice that she was still in pain.

Ichabod did not answer, stunned at seeing his mother again.

"Crane," said Abbie. "Who is that man with Katrina?"

"That's Abraham Brunt," said Andy. "Only a small part of his essence was in Macey's bracelet, so he is only kind of here. He does react, however, when Katrina is threatened. That's how Adrienne hurt her ribs."

"You can't go after your mother, Crane, and Andy can't go after his, so Andy should take Abraham, you get Katrina, and I'll take Adrienne."

"What do we do?" asked Andy.

"There is so much I could say about boys with strong mothers and weak or nonexistent fathers," sighed Abbie, "but I will spare you. Aim to kill, and knowing you two, that might do just enough damage to weaken them enough to let Andy go."

Andy pulled another arrow out of St. Sebastian, and Ichabod went to the statue of Salome and John the Baptist and took her sword. Abbie took the centurion's spear.

When Ichabod and Andy moved towards Katrina and Abraham, Adrienne cried out, "Thank you, son. And your friend as well."

"I'm not doing this for you, mother," Andy heard Ichabod mutter softly.

Andy moved towards the solid form of Abraham Brunt, and he was deceived for a moment by the figure's stillness that it would be a simple matter to run him through with an arrow. However, the moment he drew closer, Abraham jerked into alertness and turned to face Andy. Andy couldn't help a shiver when he stared into the blank eyes of Abraham Brunt.

Abraham lunged towards Andy, and if he had been a normal man, he would undoubtedly have caught Andy. Andy knew he was not particularly strong or fast. But the larger man's slowness gave Andy a chance to thrust the arrow forward, piercing one of his grasping hands. This wound clearly helped Abraham to focus, and he moved more quickly now in spite of the copiously bleeding wound. Andy needed another weapon, but even more, he needed to keep Abraham Brunt at bay.

He called his shadow, which to Andy's dismay, moved even more slowly than Abraham. Andy ran behind a pillar and then over to the statue of San Sebastian. Before he could tug free another arrow, he felt a strong grip around the back of his neck. In an instant, the grip tightened and lifted Andy off the ground.

Andy swung his legs forward and then straight back into what he hoped was Abraham's groin. He connected, and wherever he kicked him, it did its job and Abraham dropped Andy to the ground. Andy rolled away, and he breathed a sigh of relief as his shadow interposed itself between them. Andy scrambled to his feet and pulled another arrow free.

Suddenly he found himself crushed to the ground, barely avoiding impaling himself. He dragged himself out from under what turned out to be his shadow to face Abraham crouched over him. Andy leaned forward to free his legs from under himself and then pushed forward, holding the arrow point forward aimed at Abraham's chest.

He would never know if his attack would have succeeded because he was suddenly drenched in a spray of blood. Abraham's body fell forward onto the arrow, and Andy was trapped once again underneath a heavy weight, with the edge of one of the fletches digging painfully into his stomach.

His blood slicked hands had a hard time finding any purchase on the dead weight on him, but he was motivated. He used his knees as leverage, and with a sudden flex of his back, managed to lift Abraham's body into the air long enough to scramble free.

He lay on his back heaving, but he knew there were two more dangerous people in that room. He wiped enough blood out of his eyes to be able to see, and what he saw stopped him cold, just as it had Ichabod and Katrina.

Laying on the ground adjacent to where he lay was the headless body of Abraham Brunt. Blood continued to pump out of the stump of his neck, and Andy belatedly realized he was lying in a rapidly expanding pool of Abraham's blood.

"Oh my god, Ichabod!" Andy cried.

"I saw him turn on you," Ichabod explained weakly, and I just attacked. I didn't think..."

"Who knew a sword from a church statue was so sharp!" Andy finished for him.

There was a scream of pain, and Andy turned to see Abbie dazed and bleeding from a cut to her forehead. Adrienne was holding Salome's platter in her hand. Andy threw himself into a run and hurtled himself at Adrienne before she could take another swipe at Abbie.

They crashed to the steps of the altar, barely avoiding the brass bases of the candelabra.

There was a thump and Andy heard Ichabod give a startled cry, but before he could see what had happened, Katrina was approaching the altar, eyes ablaze. "You will die for this," she hissed, fixing Adrienne in her glare. "I killed you before, but this time I'll do it properly." Ichabod was nowhere to be seen.

"Not if I can kill you first," screamed Adrienne back, and with a kick, sent the nearby candelabra crashing in Katrina's direction. Katrina jumped to the side and avoided the heavy brass object. She wrenched the spear out of Abbie's weakened hand and with a thrust, impaled it in Adrienne's chest.

Andy couldn't believe that there was even more blood. He was tacky with it and found it difficult to move. And then Katrina screamed.

While she had sidestepped the candelabra, she had failed to pay attention to the candles. They were not wax, but ceramic, filled with oil and wicks. The candles had shattered on the floor, showering Katrina's long skirt with oil. And now she was aflame.

She batted at the flames, even as they climbed the folds of her skirt. She twisted and jerked, trying but failing to rid herself of the flames. All the while, Adrienne's laughter could be heard.

Suddenly Ichabod was there beside him. "They're all dying or dead and distracted. It's your chance to get out of this place."

"What about you and Abbie?" Andy asked anxiously. There was no way he would leave them behind.

"We have our own way out. You have to take care of yourself. I'll take care of Abbie."

Ichabod leaned forward as if to kiss him, but pulled back. "There's too much blood. Go. I'll see you soon."

Andy nodded, and as he faded from the dream, he saw Abraham's head, lying at the foot of Salome next to the head of John the Baptist.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our cast of characters emerge safely out of Andy's dreams. Andy and Ichabod have some private time.

Andy awoke as he always did, a gradual awareness of being back in the world he accepted as his primary reality. He was disappointed not to find Ichabod at his side as he usually was, but he was pleased to find himself in a relatively clean t-shirt and boxers and not covered in blood.

He swung himself out of bed and found that he felt different. With their escape from Katrina's world, for the first time in a long while, he felt that he had control over the path of his life. He had tried to rationally convince himself that this was true, and Ichabod had done his best to reassure him of that truth, but he could see that he hadn't truly believed it, not compared to how he felt now.

He left the bedroom, and still asleep on the couch and on mats on the floor were Ichabod, Jenny, and Abbie. He cringed when he saw the jars of scorpions on the coffee table. Empty glasses with a dried milky residue were next to them. Abbie was in a white tank top, and Ichabod was shirtless. Both were covered in sheets damp with their sweat. Jenny was slumped on the couch. Andy couldn't help leaning down and placing a kiss on Ichabod's brow. Ichabod stirred at the touch, and Andy had to trust that he would be back soon. He rarely hugged Abbie, but he gave her a kiss on the brow, too. She had risked her life for his, too.

Who knew how they would feel when they awoke, but they might appreciate something to drink. Andy looked out the window, and he gauged it was mid-day by the intensity of the light and the shortness of the shadows cast.

He savored the relative quiet as he set the electric kettle going and then got out the tea things. He peeled a few oranges and washed and sliced an apple.

"How long have you been up?" mumbled a barely awake Jenny.

"Not long," smiled Andy, and walked over to give her a hug. "Thank you."

"Thank them. It wasn't a sure thing they could get out. If one of them had gotten badly hurt, they would both have been stuck."

Andy froze for a moment. So much had been at stake. But Ichabod had reached Abbie before Andy had awoken. They were safe, too.

"Tea?" asked Andy.

"Coffee for me," Jenny replied, reaching for the coffee machine. "So you want to tell me what happened? They entered your dream around dawn. Ichabod couldn't wake you, and we were ready for this. Then all I could do was wait. It was not exciting, believe me, to watch three sleeping bodies."

The kettle clicked off, and Andy measured the tea leaves into the infuser basket. He set the infuser in the pot and poured the just boiled water over the leaves. He put the pot lid back on, covered the pot with a cozy, and set the oven timer for five minutes.

"There were three of them. Adrienne Crane, Abraham Brunt, and Katrina. Abraham wasn't totally there, more of a semi-sentient bodyguard for Katrina. They were fighting each other, Adrienne and Katrina, and not getting very far. They were pretty evenly matched, and Abraham defended Katrina, but didn't attack on his own. Adrienne stabbed Katrina, and Abraham injured her protecting Katrina. It was a standoff really. And I couldn't leave because the three of them were keeping me there. I wasn't strong enough on my own to escape the dream.

"Then they showed up, like a Mission Impossible team. Ichabod killed Abraham. He cut off his head." Andy cringed at the memory and had to reassure himself that he was not covered in Abraham's blood. Jenny had a similarly horrified look of disgust on her face. The coffee maker hissed in the background.

"Abbie got wounded," Andy continued, "and I went to help her while Ichabod focused on Katrina. And then Katrina stuck a spear through Adrienne's gut, and Katrina went up in flames due to Adrienne kicking a candelabra at her."

Jenny's eyebrows were as high as they could physically go.

"God. There was so much blood. And Katrina screaming, and Adrienne laughing. It was horrible."

"But you're safely back," said Jenny assuringly.

"We're all back," said a familiar male voice. Andy turned, and there was Ichabod, shirtless and sweaty and beautiful, holding on to an equally disheveled Abbie at his side.

"Do I smell coffee?" Abbie asked. "And I know you can't see it, but I need to wash all the blood and guts off of me."

.....

They had taken turns showering, and Andy loaned Abbie a clean t-shirt. They were all seated around the dining table, clearly not quite ready to quit each other's company yet.

"So tell me how you got into my dream," Andy asked.

"I found a shaman known as the Sandman," Jenny related. "He was known for dealing with spelled dreams. He's the one who provided the scorpions and the dream liquor."

"At least you didn't have to drink the stuff," grimaced Abbie, taking another sip of heavily sweetened coffee.

"The liquor put them under, and the scorpion's sting jolted them into your dream. Ichabod was their link. Ichabod didn't want Abbie to risk it, but..."

"We weren't sure what was in your dream," interjected Abbie, "but there was a good chance Ichabod's mother was involved, and there was no way he could deal with that on top of Katrina."

"Abbie was right," agreed Ichabod. "We were only successful because we went in together."

"I'm always right, Crane."

Ichabod gave Abbie a small smile as he took Andy's hand and gave it a firm squeeze.

"I'm glad I never have to do that again," commented Abbie.

"Never say never," responded Ichabod.

"It had better be never," said Jenny. "A second trip into dreams is almost a guarantee you'll never return. You'll be too immersed to pull yourselves back out."

"Then never had better be never, right?" said Andy, giving Ichabod a pointed look.

"Right," agreed Ichabod with another small smile.

They wrapped up the coffee and tea klatch. Luke had called to check in, and Abbie was meeting him. Jenny was also concerned about Macey. They all took deep breaths, exchanged hugs, told each other to stay safe, and the women left.

Andy and Ichabod moved to the couch, and Andy settled in to Ichabod's warm embrace for what he hoped was a good long time.

"So England next summer," said Ichabod.

"Are we planning vacations?" asked Andy.

"Of course. What do you want to do before then? We could go to the Yucatan, visit the ruins at Uxmal, Chichen Itza, and Tulum. Then lounge by a pool at a luxury resort in Cancun. I have always wanted to do that."

"Haven't heard of any of those, but it's all good with me." Andy was just happy that there was a future with Ichabod to make plans in, plans of their devising and not someone else's.

"Or we could fly up to Vancouver. A beautiful city. Excellent food, interesting shopping, a spectacular museum, and a truly beautiful city park."

"Works for me, too."

Ichabod tightened his embrace. "You are too easy to please. Tell me, what is something you have always dreamed about?"

Andy thought about his response, and the irony of it made him laugh.

"What?"

"Magic. I've always dreamed of magic."

"I was expecting a dream destination, but I want to hear this, too."

"I don’t think I saw it until now. My favorite books – Half Magic; A Wrinkle in Time; Black and Blue Magic; The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe. All of them were about magic.”

Andy looked at Ichabod, amazed at the realization. “Guess who my favorite comic book characters were?”

“You are assuming I know any comic book characters at all,” laughed Ichabod.

“Zatanna and Dr. Strange. Both magicians. Guess my favorite T.V. show.”

Ichabod paused. “Charmed.”

Andy looked at him in surprise. “I would never have guessed you even knew that show. Actually, I was thinking of Bewitched.”

“I’m not as much of a Philistine as you might think.” Ichabod nuzzled against Andy’s ear and twitched his nose. Andy laughed. “Favorite movies?” Ichabod asked.

“Mary Poppins and Bedknobs and Broomsticks, of course.”

“I should have guessed. But doesn’t every child love magic?”

“But that’s just it. It’s never stopped. I was reading Harry Potter in college. I just read Carter Beats the Devil and The Magicians a few years ago. And I reread Roald Dahl’s The Witches a few months ago for like the hundredth time. I own the DVD.”

Ichabod laughed, and Andy felt a bit absurd. But it was true. Everything he loved was about magic. He couldn’t stop. “I have the third Wildwood book on the nightstand. And think about what I dragged you to see the other week.”

“Now You See Me,” remembered Ichabod.

“Magic,” said Andy. “Have you seen The Illusionist or The Prestige? They’re amazing and they’re about magicians. I loved them."

"But that's not real magic."

"Doesn't matter. It's the idea of magic I dream of. The fact that I now know it's real and a lot more scary doesn't change that."

"So magicians?"

"I've seen some local magicians live, but I'd love to see Penn and Teller, or David Copperfield, or David Blaine. I've only seen them on TV."

"Houdini?"

"I was obsessed with him in high school. Kept a postcard of him wrapped in chains and nearly naked in my underwear drawer."

“Sex and magic,” sighed Ichabod. “A potent combination.”

“We should know,” chuckled Andy. He pulled one of Ichabod’s hands to his lips and kissed it.

"What do you dream about magic?"

"Anything." Andy thought. "Everything. I guess I have just always wanted it to exist."

“And now you know that it does.” Ichabod pressed a gentle kiss to the nape of Andy’s neck, and it made him shiver. That was magic, too.

Another recollection came to Andy. "I did see this one magician. His name was Romeo Daring. A pretty ridiculous name actually. He came through San Francisco, and he was the protégé of those tiger guys in Las Vegas."

"Siegfried and Roy," said Ichabod.

"Yeah. Them. He was using the name, 'The Magician of Dreams,' and the idea was he could make people's dreams come true. He only called up little old ladies for his act - kind of strange since this is San Francisco and he was pretty cute - but I guess he was prepping for the more 'traditional' crowd of Las Vegas at the time."

"He would be an anachronism at the Cosmopolitan now."

"Actually, he felt a bit like an anachronism then. He pulled roses out of thin air and gave them to the old ladies. He guessed the names of their long lost loves. It was all kind of sappy, but I realized he had lived up to his name. He had touched the dreams of those old ladies."

"Disappointed he didn’t ask you to the stage?"

"Maybe a little. Anyway, I wanted to meet him, and he said he would be in the lobby to meet the audience. It was a modest crowd, but when I looked for him, I couldn't find him. Then I realized I had been looking for someone taller than me, and when I looked around with that understanding, I spotted him immediately. He was just about the same height as me."

Ichabod wrapped his hands over Andy's. "So why do you remember him?"

Andy chuckled at how ridiculous his answer was, but it was true. "Because he was short, like me."

"You're not short."

"Spoken condescendingly by someone who is clearly not considered short."

"You are perfect," and Ichabod kissed the back of his neck again, and a tingling sensation traveled down his spine.

"You're biased."

"So he was your height. Why was that important?"

"It made me think that maybe magic was possible for me. All the magicians I had ever seen were tall and dashing, but Romeo Daring was short, like me."

Ichabod buried his face in Andy's shoulder, and Andy raised a hand to stroke his head. "He made me feel for the first time that there could be magic in my life, and look what happened," Andy said. "I found you."

Andy could feel Ichabod breathe deeply against his neck. He held Ichabod’s hands tighter against him. He thought about how magic had brought him and Ichabod together, and he wondered what role magic might play in their lives in the future, and what that future even looked like given the fact that Ichabod would live so much longer than he would.

He must have fallen silent because Ichabod asked, “Are you okay?”

Andy nodded. “I’m fine. Just lost in thought for a moment.”

Ichabod's hands began to rub circles on Andy's stomach, and Andy couldn't help thinking he must be part dog for how good it made him feel. Ichabod began to nibble on his ear, and Andy arched his back in satisfaction. Maybe he was really a cat.

When Ichabod pressed one hand against Andy's groin, Andy was already hard. Ichabod closed his hand around Andy's length, and lightly stroked him through his layers of cloth. The friction was exquisite, and Andy found himself moaning.

"I want you inside me, Andy," said Ichabod softly into Andy's ear. "I want you to come inside me and have your essence seep into my flesh. I want to have a part of you become a part of me."

Andy trembled at the intensity of Ichabod's words and the feather-light strokes over his cock that had not ceased. He was also nervous. "I've never done that before."

"Then I'll be your first. I want you, Andy."

Andy nodded. Ichabod wanted him, and he wanted more than anything to give Ichabod pleasure. He began to run through everything he liked about being fucked. Ichabod chuckled behind him. "Don't overthink it. We love each other. It will be good."

Ichabod fingered Andy's zipper open and rubbed a finger over the single layer of cotton covering his cock.

"You are already so wet for me," Ichabod breathed into his ear. "I can imagine you sliding into me, hard and wet."

"Oh, God!" Andy cried out, flipping over to crush into Ichabod, completely covering his mouth with his, forcing his tongue into his, grinding his cock against his. Andy reached between them to unbutton Ichabod's shirt, and he felt as if he were struggling to do so with extra fingers and no thumb.

"Finally!" he yelled, exulting in exposing Ichabod's beautiful torso. He stroked the hard planes of his chest and leaned down to mouth his right nipple.

Ichabod was moaning yesses under his breath, and Andy moved his lips to worry the other nipple. He lifted off and ran a finger over the now hard and wet nubs.

He ran the tip of his tongue down the center of Ichabod's chest, dipping into his navel, and then following the trail of fine dark hair that disappeared beneath his waistband.

Andy unfastened his trousers with much more agility than he had tackled his shirt, and with both hands, plus an assisting lift of Ichabod's hips, he pulled both trousers and boxer briefs down in a single movement.

Andy took Ichabod into his mouth, and he rejoiced in the solidity of him. Ichabod was real. This was his hot flesh in his mouth, his flushed skin under his hands. This part of lovemaking he knew, and he sucked on Ichabod to make him gasp and pant.

Now for the less familiar part, at least from his perspective. He paused from his sucking on Ichabod's cock to suck his fingers wet and slick. Then he resumed his oral strokes over Ichabod's length while he slid his wet fingers between Ichabod's legs. He burrowed through hot sweaty flesh until he felt the firmness of the places just forward of his hole, and then he gingerly reached with his fingers until they made contact with the tight opening.

When Andy stroked Ichabod's hole while deep throating his cock, it was Ichabod's turn to scream to god. Andy loved unraveling Ichabod like this, and he pressed his fingers more firmly against him, one finger pushing into his hole.

"Lube," Ichabod gasped.

Andy reluctantly pulled off and ran into the bedroom to get the lube from the night stand. He figured it was a good time to divest himself of unnecessary garments as well, and when he returned to the living room less than a minute later, Ichabod was stretched nude on the couch.

"I see you used the minute productively as well," Ichabod smiled.

Andy lifted one of Ichabod's legs to rest on the back of the couch. He coated his two same fingers with lube, and he began to work over Ichabod's now much more accessible opening. Ichabod trembled, and when Andy's slick finger entered him, Ichabod's body leapt off the couch.

Andy continued to work him over, adding fingers and sliding in deep and twisting, until Ichabod was short of breath. Ichabod's cock was red and leaking against his stomach. Andy knew that if he were Ichabod, the moment when he wanted to be penetrated was fast approaching. With his free hand, he squirted a liberal amount of lube on his own cock, and tossing the bottle of lube aside, ran his free hand up and down his hard length to coat it well.

Ichabod was gasping, and Andy could feel how easily his three fingers scissored into him. It was time.

Andy pulled out his fingers and grasped his cock to line it up with Ichabod's hole. He eased forward into Ichabod's heat. It was very different than being in Ichabod's mouth. It was infinitely hotter, and the muscles of Ichabod's ass gripped everywhere that was inside. The lube was slicker, too, making it a silky glide, allowing Andy to pierce deeper and deeper until all of Andy was held tight.

"It feels amazing," gasped Ichabod. "You feel so good inside of me. So right. Fuck me, Andy. Fuck me."

This was different, too, thrusting into Ichabod. He had welcomed Ichabod into his body many a time, riding him until Ichabod couldn't hold back and would explode inside him. Is this what Andy felt like to him? Heat and slide, and it was like all his nerves had relocated to the length of his cock.

Before Andy knew it, he was thrusting in and out, chasing an orgasm that beckoned past the next stroke. He was fucking Ichabod hard now, and Ichabod was grunting out meaningless noises with each thrust. Andy felt the distinctive tightness, the growing inevitability in his groin. One more thrust. No. Just one more. Faster. Harder. One more.

Andy screamed when his orgasm struck. It was like being ripped from his moorings and tossed free into a blindingly white sky. His cock spasmed again and again, and he felt each aftershock like the severing of one more rope trying to hold him to the ground.

Andy shuddered, and when he regained awareness, his arms and thighs were aching, and he couldn't hold himself up.

He crashed onto Ichabod with a wet squish.

"Oh god," apologized Andy. "I completely forgot about you."

Ichabod smiled. "You were totally hot. It was just what I wanted, and you can feel that I achieved a very happy ending."

In spite of the tackiness between them, Andy wrapped himself on top of Ichabod.

"We're perfect," said Ichabod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do love books and TV shows and movies about magic. Here's a bit more info about the magic media I included in this chapter.
> 
> Narnia Series by C.S. Lewis. 1950-1956.  
> Half Magic by Edward Eager. 1954.  
> Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle. 1962.  
> Zatanna. DC Comics universe character. First appeared in 1964.  
> Mary Poppins. Walt Disney. Directed by Robert Stevenson. 1964.  
> Bewitched. ABC. 1964-1972.  
> Black and Blue Magic by Zilpha Keatley Snyder. 1966.  
> Bedknobs and Broomsticks. Walt Disney. Directed by Robert Stevenson. 1971.  
> The Witches by Roald Dahl. 1983.  
> Harry Potter Series by J.K. Rowling. 1997-2007.  
> Charmed. The WB. 1998-2006.  
> Carter Beats the Devil by Glen David Gold. 2001.  
> The Prestige. Buena Vista Pictures. Directed by Christopher Nolan. 2006.  
> The Illusionist. Freestyle Releasing and Yari Film Group Releasing. Directed by Neil Burger. 2006.  
> The Magicians by Lev Grossman. 2009.  
> Wildwood Chronicles by Colin Meloy and Carson Ellis. 2011-2014.  
> Now You See Me. Summit Entertainment and Lionsgate. Directed by Louis Leterrier. 2013.


	11. Chapter 11

Andy couldn't trust the quiet for the first week. He was sure that at any minute, Katrina would reach out of his mind to reclaim him. He had reverted to a troubled sleep, and he often woke tangled in the sheets with Ichabod holding him reassuringly.

But the days passed, and Katrina did not resurface. Andy began to lose that sense of dread.

Andy had returned to his photo matching project, delayed since the spring. Summer was coming to a close, which meant the weather in San Francisco was about to turn sunny and warm. Fortunately, they interspersed their days with walks around the city, revisiting familiar haunts and checking out new ones, scoring a spelled object from time to time. Ichabod had also been preoccupied with a research project, which he declined to divulge until he was done.

So it was that Andy was working in the back office when Ichabod returned from another research chase. Andy looked up from the computer monitor to find Ichabod looking pensive.

"What's wrong?" Andy asked. "Did you find out something important?"

"Macey killed Elizabeth Albion."

"The woman who laid one of the curses on you."

"To whom I gave the emerald necklace hidden in my mother's jewelry box, the one that Abraham Brunt had given her during their affair."

"Macey killed her to get the necklace?"

Ichabod rubbed his eyes. He looked tired. "Under the influence of my mother, Macey must have retrieved the necklace. She must have had to kill Elizabeth to get it."

"That’s the necklace that Katrina was after because Abraham’s memories of her were captured in the emerald."

"And both emeralds ended up set in Macey's bracelet."

"Have you told Jenny or Abbie yet?"

"No. I'm not sure what good it will do. Macey can hardly be held liable for the actions of my mother."

Andy nodded in agreement. "So you've suspected for a while?"

"Since you told us Abraham was in the dream, too."

"It was crazy," was all Andy could think of to say.

"Abbie was right. There's a lot about our lives that can be attributed to our mothers. We are living stereotypes."

"But at least we're living."

......

It was a fleeting glimpse, of the church, dark and desolate, of bodies, of blood.

"It's just a nightmare," said Ichabod holding him close.

"I could smell it," gasped Andy, working to bring his breathing back under control. "But they're dead, aren't they?" Andy asked, looking to Ichabod anxiously.

"I would have thought so," said Ichabod darkly. "However, we didn't make sure before we fled."

"You cut off Abraham's damn head!" Andy cried.

"I would say that, for one, was a sure thing."

.....

The dread which had finally lifted returned to Andy doubled. How could he be sure that Katrina was well and truly gone? He had seen no one in that glimpse, but how else had he been drawn back there if not for her?

Andy was not himself. He was not the cheerful and open person he had constructed himself to be. He was irritable and preoccupied, and he knew Ichabod had the patience of a saint, but he couldn't control how he felt. He dressed and dragged himself down to the shop, but every time the shop door opened, Andy expected Katrina to enter with a gun in her hands. He twitched so much that Ichabod suggested he go upstairs to rest, and Andy went into a rant. And then he fell into tears.

"I don't want to be like this," Andy sobbed into Ichabod's shoulder. "You shouldn't have to put up with me like this."

"It's okay, Andy. We'll get through this."

"What if I'm like this forever? What if it's because they're a part of me now? Even if the dream is gone, I still have them in my head."

"I'm a part of you, too. And we're stronger than they are. Never forget that."

Andy sighed. "I don't really know who I am. Katrina made me. Maybe I'm not really anyone."

"Shhh. You told me before that no matter what Katrina did, no matter how she influenced your life, that there was a part of you that was real. It's the part that loves me. You still love me, don't you?"

"You know I do."

"Then hold on to that."

......

Andy was terrified to be back, but he was also relieved. At least he wasn't going crazy. Katrina was still alive.

The church looked mostly the same, a bit darker, a bit colder. And the smell of old blood. He approached the statue of St Sebastian. He was missing some arrows, and there were dried dark patches at his base.

Where's Abraham's head? thought Andy. That was one of the last things he had seen.

He looked around and noticed movement near the altar.

The candelabra still lay on its side on the steps, shattered ceramic pieces littering the ground and scorch marks where oil had splashed. There was movement on the ground nearby.

It couldn't be. But it was. The body of Adrienne Crane lay there, a gaping wound in her stomach, deep slash marks across her arms and face. Blood covered so much of her that Andy couldn't tell where all the wounds were. But she was very much alive. Her breath rasped weakly but steadily, and fluid gurgled with each breath, like water in a drain.

"She won't die. None of us will."

It was Katrina's voice, and Andy was afraid to turn around, thereby making her real.

"This is purgatory, my cursed little boy. Look at me, and you'll see why I'm ready to die."

Andy turned and immediately backed away, finding himself backed against a pillar. It was Katrina, or what was left of her. She was a burnt out shell, charred flaps of skin hanging off of blackened bones. Gone was her lustrous red hair and her flashing eyes. All that remained was a thin surface of soot over a skull only partially covered with patches of skin. She used the spear with which she had stabbed Adrienne as a support.

And behind her was Abraham, who moved even though headless. He was a horror as much as Katrina, with his blood drenched stump of a neck and his severed head carried under his arm.

"I can't continue like this." Andy looked at her face, little more than a blackened skull. When she spoke, he could see the movement of her jaw bone dislodge black fragments that fell to the ground. "My not so sweet boy. We live, if you can call this living, because you live. Your life will not let us go."

She shuffled forward, and Andy wanted to recoil further but couldn't because of the pillar. Andy watched her come closer, and he cringed at the thought of her touching him.

She didn't touch him. With a clearly concerted effort, she pivoted the spear and stabbed it through Andy's abdomen. It was so sudden that it took moments before Andy realized what had happen. Then the searing pain came alive, and Andy grabbed at the shaft at the spear, finding that just shifting his arms made the pain that much sharper. He found he couldn't move, that the spear had him pinned to the pillar behind him. He couldn't find words. He was in too much pain to speak. He couldn't believe his life would end like this. He thought of Ichabod.

Katrina could barely stand after her exertion, stumbling backwards and nearly falling. Andy watched her regain some strength even as he felt the blood coursing down his stomach and down one leg. He imagined himself as an hour glass, the grains of sand the measure of his life, falling away, and before long he would be empty.

"I'm sorry I couldn't kill you faster," Katrina said at last. "But I'm sure it is a mortal wound. It won't be long." Katrina turned her back to him and stumbled to one of the few pews in the church. She allowed herself to collapse onto it, and then she was still as if already dead. Headless Abraham loomed back to her side, standing sentry.

There was a rumbling and a crack like thunder, and a shower of plaster fell to the ground near the altar steps.

"You're dying, my dear sweet boy. You are what is holding this place together," sighed Karina. "When it collapses, it will take us with it."

It was strange, Andy thought. He had a spear in his gut, and while it had burned going in, he hardly felt it now. He watched as chunks of decorative plasterwork broke away and smashed into the Virgin, tearing away her right arm. There was a sound of splintering glass. At least Ichabod would not die here with him. It was hard to think that he had lived and soon would die without really knowing who he was. But maybe no one ever truly did. Perhaps Ichabod was right. The most important thing was that he had found something real in himself in loving Ichabod. "I'm sorry, Ichabod," he mouthed.

"For what?"

Andy looked to his left, and there was Ichabod. And close behind him, his shadow was approaching, as if it needed to get closer to Andy before he vanished from existence. "You were safe. You shouldn't be here. You have to get out."

"I can't, Andy. There's no way back out without you."

Andy sobbed. This was all wrong. Ichabod had been safe. "Why are you here?"

"I couldn't let you face her alone." Ichabod gingerly touched the shaft of the spear. "I'm too late, aren't I?"

There was a fierce groan, and Christ on the cross fell over, crushing the centurion in a cloud of dust, as if to punctuate Ichabod's words. Cracks were visible in the walls now, and there was a steady rain of plaster and mortar.

"I hate that you're here," sighed Andy, "but I'm glad, too. You'll be the last thing I ever see. I couldn't ask for more."

A cloud of dust fell from on high, and Andy coughed, triggering sharp pains in his stomach.

"Do you trust me?" asked Ichabod as he ran a finger along Andy's cheek.

"With my life," and Andy allowed himself an internal laugh at how apropos that sentiment was right now. He could hardly see anymore. His vision was starting to swim, and he knew if he were not impaled against the pillar, he would have already fallen to the ground.

"Then pull your shadow back into yourself."

"But..."

"And have him pull me into you."

"You'll die!" said Andy. Belatedly, he realized how ridiculous that sounded.

"This is not my real body."

"But..."

"Now Andy. Before you grow too weak."

Andy was weak, but he called the shadow to him. He trusted Ichabod, and Ichabod was already a part of him. What difference would pulling his dream self into his dream self make? His shadow drew close, and it opened its arms to wrap around Ichabod.

"I will always be with you, Andy."

And with those final words in his ears, Andy pulled Ichabod into himself and died.


	12. Chapter 12

He knew that he had been here for a long time, but only now was he aware of the faint sound of footsteps. He couldn't see in the absolute darkness, and the footsteps, faint though they were, were clear, and he turned to follow them.

At times, the footsteps disappeared, but they returned, and soon he counted on their return, even as he knew they would disappear again for a while.

Slowly, he became aware of his being. He was walking on legs, and his feet stepped on a surface that was not solid yet sustained his weight. He discovered his arms, and he raised and lowered them, wrapped them around himself. He had hands and fingers, and he touched his face, tracing the smoothness of his brow, the unruliness of his hair, the dryness of his lips.

He followed the footsteps, and they became a reason for his existence. This was his purpose, to follow those steps. He walked and swung his arms and raised his chin, confident that there was nothing in his way. His only goal to follow.

Then there was a change to the darkness. He couldn't describe it. It was still totally black, but it was less so. He couldn't see any of his limbs or a finger held in front of his face, but now he could perceive that there was a shadow of himself, walking in tandem with him, a shadow with a quality of darkness different than that which surrounded them.

They followed the footsteps, and then he could see the vague darkerness of his finger when he held one to his face. Not long after, he could see the rush of his arms swinging up and down. The world around him was no longer black but had become a very dark gray, and he could see his shadowy companion more clearly outlined against the not-completely dark.

He couldn't say when he could make out his body, pale and smooth, with a single dark patch of hair at the juncture of his legs. He could see his nipples and his fingernails, and then his navel and his knees. The footsteps had stopped, but he knew now in which direction to go. The maker of those footsteps was waiting for him there.

He remembered he was Andy, and his shadowy companion stopped and would not continue with him. He pulled and cajoled, but it remained fast. He left it behind and walked on. He was almost there. His steps felt confident and his mind felt clear. He had almost died, but he had not died, and now he was being reborn. He was returning. To the world. To his life. To Ichabod.

.....

Andy opened his eyes, and the world seemed far too bright. But Ichabod was there, leaning over him, his eyes bright with dampness. Ichabod leaned down and kissed him, and Andy closed his eyes at the delicious familiarity of the sensation of Ichabod's lips on his. He moved to wrap his arms around Ichabod, but restraints held him back. He panicked and began to jerk nervously.

"It's just the I.V. You have one of the tubes twisted around your arm. Let me."

Ichabod freed his arm from the tubing, and Andy looked around him, aware now that he was in a hospital room. He looked at Ichabod, and the confusion he felt must have showed.

"You've been making your way back to us for quite a while, Andy. Almost six weeks. You actually died. For more than a minute you were clinically dead, and then your heart started beating again, but you were in a coma. They hooked you up to the I.V. so we could keep you fed and hydrated. We moved your arms and legs every few hours so they wouldn't atrophy. We touched your face and your hands and your feet so you would have stimulation. Jenny and Abbie and Luke and Macey and the Irving's read to you. And I talked to you every day. And I dreamt of you every night."

"I followed you," said Andy. It came out little more than a rasp.

"I needed to lead you back," smiled Ichabod, clearly having understood.

"You were inside me."

"That's how we kept you with us. I was alive, so you stayed alive."

Andy took a deep breath, enjoying the feel of the air flowing into his mouth and down his throat, filling his lungs. He smiled up at Ichabod. "It's good to be awake."

.....

It was October 9. Andy's 32nd birthday. Ichabod had reserved the private room at the Ristorante Tivoli, and they were mingling with 20-odd friends amidst the gilded plasterwork over crimson walls. The Mills. The Irvings. Luke Morales. Friends from Irving and Irving. Other business owners from the street.

"We decided on the Yucatan for our pre-holidays trip," enthused Andy. "I'm feeling pretty good, and we think I'll be 100% by then and ready for ruin climbing. I'm totally ready now for the sitting by the ocean part."

"The Yucatan is beautiful," said Cynthia Irving. "You'll love it."

"And I hear you two are off to England in the summer," added Frank Irving.

"Yeah. It's the anniversary of Ichabod's alma mater, Lamberton Woods Academy."

"Lamberton Academy. In Lamberton Woods." Ichabod had appeared at Andy's side.

Andy smiled at Ichabod and wrapped an arm around his waist. "I've never traveled outside of the US before, and now two trips in one year."

"Time to wake up and see what the rest of the world is drinking," quipped Ichabod.

"You discover new things," said Cynthia, "but you also discover new things about yourself."

"I'm looking forward to that," said Andy.

Not everyone had seen Andy since his reawakening, and the explanation they had given was a near traffic accident that resulted in a bad fall and a serious blow to the head.

"This will only confirm what they already think of my mental state," said Andy when they had agreed on a story.

"These are your friends," reminded Ichabod.

Friends from Irving and Irving came up to wish him a happy birthday and to express pleasure at his recovery. Andy knew that he had lost weight during his "coma", and he was working his way slowly back to normal size.

Macey had come by while he was still recuperating at the medical facility (it was not a hospital, as Andy learned later, but a facility that treated witches, the long-lived, and the victims of spells and curses; there was clearly a lot more for him to learn about the world he now found himself in). It had been a short and awkward visit, but it was a first step for Macey to recover who she was. Andy had very much understood that. Now she was approaching, alone. Her relationship with Jenny was complicated, and not just by the interaction with the emeralds. They were on again, off again, and Andy usually checked with Abbie before talking with Jenny in order to know whether Macey was a good topic or not that week. Abbie's overall assessment was, "Witches don't do easy relationships." Ichabod had concurred.

This was apparently an off-ish time. Cynthia and Frank hugged their daughter, and then Macey gave Andy a peck on the cheek along with a birthday greeting. They didn't say much since Cynthia and Frank only knew the bare minimum. They chatted some more about the benefits of travel, and then Frank and Cynthia went to freshen their drinks. They did not use wine glass charms.

Now just the three of them, Macey looked more apologetic. "I’m glad you’re okay," she said.

"As are we all," said Ichabod, not without a hint of cold reserve.

"Don't beat yourself up about it," said Andy. "I had to work my way through being used to try and kill Ichabod..."

"That is totally different," Ichabod began to argue.

"Shhh. Different or not, it's also the same. We have to deal with it, however it came about and what we ended up doing."

"But I actually killed someone," said Macey. "That young woman's friends and family lost her. I'm just glad I didn't succeed in killing you. Either of you."

Andy was relieved Ichabod did not mention Elizabeth Albion.

There was the sound of a test of the sound system. "Ah," smiled Ichabod. "Time for the first part of this afternoon's program." They waved to Macey as Ichabod led Andy to their seats at the edge of what Andy thought was just a dance floor. While they had been mingling, someone had set up a round table draped in a black tablecloth that fell most of the way to the floor.

Ichabod seated Andy and then moved to the center of the dance floor.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Ichabod began. "We are gathered together..."

Someone said rather audibly, "to join these two men in holy matrimony." Andy was pretty sure it was Abbie. There was laughter and a few intakes of surprise.

"I'm afraid that is not the focus of this gathering," smiled Ichabod, "but give us time, Abbie." Andy had guessed correctly. "Actually, I was trying to invoke the solemnity of the memorial service we did not have to have. Instead, we are gathered to celebrate the life and birthday of the man I hold most dear, Andy Brooks."

With a gesture, Ichabod pointed to Andy, and there was applause and hooting far louder than their numbers would have suggested.

"When Andy and I have spoken about dreams and the future, he shared with me one thing that is the theme for today's festivities: magic."

There were a few gasps of surprise, and Andy wondered what was coming next.

"And now, without further ado and with insufficient practice, I introduce myself, for this one performance only, as ‘Crane the Incredible’."

There was applause, and Andy couldn't help beaming as he joined in.

"And now, rather than ask for a volunteer, as if we could choose anyone other than the guest of honor, I now ask Mr. Andy Brooks to join me on this erstwhile stage."

Andy laughed as he stood to join Ichabod. Ichabod bowed and then waved his arm before his face. Andy caught the telltale bulge in Ichabod's cuff as Ichabod reached behind his ear to extract the silken red scarf.

Next, Ichabod had Andy hold up an apparently hollow metal canister, asking Andy to hold it up to his face so that the audience could see his face through it. Ichabod then placed the canister on the table, covered it with a cloth, tapped with his finger, and then lifted the cloth to present Andy with a bouquet of silk flowers.

"And for my last feat of prestidigitation, I will now saw Mr. Brooks in half."

Everyone gasped, and Andy looked at Ichabod in surprise.

"Alas, I jest. Both my illusions and my repartee need work. I end, instead, with that mainstay of magic, the reading of the mind!"

Ichabod proceeded to produce a deck of cards, to much laughter. He had Andy pick a card, which happened to be the Ace of Hearts, and after Andy had slid it back into the deck, he followed up with much shuffling and dramatic waves of the deck in the air. Ichabod had Andy cut the deck, and with a flourish, Ichabod turned over the topmost card at the cut to reveal the Ace of Hearts.

Furious applause followed, especially from Andy, who had not seen how Ichabod had created the illusion.

"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. This performance will never be repeated again, and if I can delete the video from Ms. Mills' phone, it will live on only in your, I hope, fond memories."

Andy looked out and saw Abbie waving her phone tauntingly in the air and laughing.

"And let us thank my volunteer assistant, the birthday person himself, Mr. Andy Brooks."

Amidst the cheering and applause that followed, Andy hugged Ichabod tight. "You were fantastic. I love you."

Ichabod pulled out of their hug with a big smile, led them both in a bow, and directed Andy back to his seat.

"And now, to show you what magic really looks like, my teacher for the last week and whom you should not blame for my inadequacies, Paul Lopez!"

For the next thirty minutes, Paul Lopez astounded Andy with close magic. Andy was right next to the man, yet he never saw how any thing was done. He levitated a water glass Andy handed him from their table. A playing card Andy signed ended up disappearing and reappearing in Luke's wallet across the room. At the end of the performance, Andy could have believed magic was real based on this alone.

"He's very good," commented Jenny. "He had me wondering at times if he was using spells."

"He was amazing!" enthused Andy. "And I've never been so close to magic before." He looked at Ichabod and Jenny before adding, "Present company excepted."

It was time for the buffet and music for dancing.

"Did you notice?" Ichabod asked, reaching past Andy for some marinated vegetables.

"Notice what?" asked Andy.

"You and Paul Lopez. You're the same height."

Andy stopped. It was true. He had been looking Paul Lopez in the eye, but the magic had been so cool he hadn't even noticed. "You are incredible! Is that why you chose him?"

"He did come highly recommended."

Andy couldn't help himself. He wasn't much for public displays of affection, but he didn't know how else to show Ichabod how much this meant to him. He pulled Ichabod in for a kiss, a real lingering lip-lock, and he tried to convey how much Ichabod meant to him.

"Shouldn't you be saving that for the ceremony?" Of course it was Abbie.

"He hasn't even proposed yet," said Andy.

"You could always propose first."

Andy looked at Ichabod and realized that he was actually lost in contemplation.

"In any case," said Abbie, "you can at least start preparing for your first dance."

Andy looked at Ichabod again and found him holding his hand out to him.

"May I have the pleasure?"

Andy chuckled and they stepped out on the floor. Ichabod gave the DJ a nod.

"And what song have you chosen, Mr. Crane?" Andy asked.

"Something appropriate, I assure you. At least this time there’s music."

It only took about eight beats, and Andy had to laugh as The Loving Spoonful's rendition of "Do You Believe in Magic?" played. Even though it was not in any way a slow dance, Ichabod held him tight and swayed with him on the dance floor, barely moving. Soon others joined in and crowded round. Standing in the midst of friends, Andy looked up at the man he loved, and when he had Ichabod's eyes fixed to his, he smiled. Magic was real, and the proof was holding him in its arms.


End file.
